Long, Long, Long
by DarkHarmony
Summary: HGDM. When Hermione finds out that a war is approaching by reading a letter intended for Draco's eyes only, she is determined to tell someone about it. Draco and Hermione fight it out, then something happens that neither of them expected. Read for more.
1. Chapter 1

"**Long, Long, Long"**

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or places mentioned in this story that are in any way connected with the Harry Potter series; they are owned by J.K. Rowling.

**PART ONE: AN UNEXPECTED ROMANCE**

_Hermione slowly walked up the cold, dark stairwell. It was not as she had remembered. The light from her candle played across the stone walls that seemed to slowly close in around her as she ascended to the top of the tower. Hermione hadn't remembered the sheer coldness of the place; her memories of it were always filled with warmth._

_The top of the stairs came into view several feet from her. The gray light flooded in from the large broken windows. She stepped up the final step and the chilly breeze from outside blew out the candle. Hermione didn't care; it was light enough naturally, though the day was overcast. _

_She started towards the windows but changed her mind mid-step. She knew what the view would be, and decided she would rather dwell on the more pleasant memories of this place. Old memories that remained forever etched in her young mind._

…

It was the Christmas feast, and the Great Hall was filled with cheerful faces and laughter. Looking around, Hermione didn't see one sad or angry student--a rarity, even in normal times. Smiling to herself, Hermione waved over her two best friends as they entered the Hall.

"Where have you been?" She asked, examining their red faces and snow-covered robes.

"Snowball fight," Ron explained simply, "Harry and me against Seamus and Dean."

Harry smiled. "We looked for you earlier to see if you wanted to join us, but you weren't in the dormitories or the common room."

"Oh, I was in the library," said Hermione, pulling out her wand and performing a simple drying charm on her two friends.

"Oh, thanks, Hermione," said Ron as the snow disappeared from his robes. He looked up expectantly towards the head table. "Is this feast going to start anytime soon?" he wondered in annoyance.

As if on cue, Dumbledore stood up and silence fell. "I wish a very happy Christmas to all of you! It is often that this time of year brings about joy for us all, but I ask you to enjoy it especially this year. It is in our times of happiness that we are brought together, and unity, though always important, must be particularly cherished in the coming months. I ask you to create, renew, and keep as many friendships as you can during the rest of this term, as hard as that may seem. They will be well beyond worth the effort before long. And now, enjoy the feast!"

The tables immediately filled with trays of the most wonderful foods of the holidays--roasts of all different kinds, gravies, potatoes, everything that one could think of for the best holiday dinner. Dumbledore's somewhat foreboding message was instantly lost as the students happily ate the meal.

The headmaster sat down and smiled, despite his troubled thoughts. Though many of the people around him didn't know it, a war was steadily approaching, and had been for some time. Dumbledore allowed himself to glance over at Harry Potter, who was enjoying the feast with his classmates. The headmaster let out a heavy breath and glanced down at his plate.

Hermione was one of only two people in the entire hall that didn't immediately start feasting. Her Christmas cheer had just been dampened, though Dumbledore hadn't said anything new or very surprising. She wondered why his speech made her anxious, and after a moment figured she was simply reading too much into his words. Upon glancing up at the Headmaster, however, and noticing the worried look in his eyes, despite his smile, she realized that perhaps she was right to worry. His quick glance over at Harry, who didn't notice, was enough for her to realize that she was right--Dumbledore was very concerned about something.

Suddenly, Hermione didn't feel particularly hungry, though the food on the table looked delicious. She looked across the room to see if anyone else had really heard what Dumbledore said and found herself disappointed. Was she the only one who had noticed? She started to feel queasy and felt a sudden need to leave the Great Hall.

"Harry, Ron," she said, trying to get their attention, "I'm not feeling very well, I'll see you later."

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Harry asked, looking concerned.

She smiled at him, "I'll be fine. Enjoy the feast." She stood up, grabbing her bag, and left as inconspicuously as possible. She didn't think students were supposed to leave during a feast, but she knew that if she didn't get somewhere quiet enough to think, she would have this strange feeling in her stomach all night.

She made it out of the Great Hall without anyone saying anything and immediately headed for her favorite place in the castle. "_Lumos_," she muttered as she reached the familiar tapestry on the fourth floor. It was of a beautiful unicorn, but the colors had faded with time so that the image was not as amazing as Hermione imagined it must once have been. She tapped the tapestry three times with her wand and stood back. After a moment, the tapestry suddenly moved, rolling itself up and revealing a hidden archway. Hermione's wand lit up the dark passageway and when she had climbed the first several steps, she heard the tapestry unroll itself behind her.

She stepped slowly up the steps, hearing the sound of her shoes against the stone break the thick silence. Hermione loved this tower, so much so that she had never told anyone about it, not even Harry and Ron. It was her secret area, where she escaped to think about things in silence, or merely to look out one of the large windows at the top to see the stars or the beautiful grounds of Hogwarts. It was undoubtedly Hermione's favorite place in the entire castle, and she visited it often.

She prepared for the sudden cold that she would feel as she neared the top, but for some reason, it didn't come. She frowned and quickened her step, wondering why the usual draft from the outside was absent.

She reached the top to find a fair-sized fire completely under control in the center of the small circular room. On the opposite side, leaning on the window sill and looking out the window, was another student.

Hermione stared at the person, wondering what someone else was doing in the secret tower she thought only she knew of. "_Nox,_" she whispered, realizing that her wand's light was not needed with the fire blazing so close. The student whirled around, startled at her voice. Hermione stared. "Malfoy?" she asked incredulously.

Across the room, Draco Malfoy looked just as shocked as Hermione did.

"What are _you_ doing here?" The two asked of one another simultaneously. Draco smirked. Hermione stood in the archway awkwardly. Draco spoke first, "Why aren't you at the feast, Granger? Where are your little friends, Potter and Weasley?"

Hermione glared at him. "I wasn't hungry."

Draco raised his eyebrows. He seriously doubted that was why she was there.

Hermione looked at him expectantly. When Draco said nothing, she asked, "Well? Why are _you_ here?"

Draco didn't speak for a moment, wondering how to respond. He thought of the letter his father had sent him earlier that day, telling him about Voldemort's plans, and how everything was going perfectly. The thought crossed his mind of speaking his thoughts aloud, but he suddenly realized who had asked him the question. "That doesn't concern you," he said coldly.

Anger boiled up in Hermione. Not because she really cared about why he was up in _her_ secret tower, but because he always spoke to her as if she were his inferior, which she found laughable but also highly irritating. "You're right. It doesn't. And to tell you the truth, I don't much care." She turned away from him, staring out at the stars reflected in the ice-cold lake. She imagined that their conversation was over, and that, if she was lucky, Malfoy might leave, but she found herself sorely mistaken.

"I don't suppose you're going to _leave_ or do anything kind like that, now would you?" said Draco, watching her.

Hermione turned around quickly. "No, actually, I'm _not_, Malfoy. So either leave yourself or be quiet so I might be able to think."

"About what?" Draco wondered aloud.

She looked at him as though he were insane. "_That doesn't concern you_," she said icily, imitating his former answer.

Draco smiled to himself. Something about him deeply irritated her, and always had. He found it amusing to watch her get angry so easily. "Now, now Granger," he said mockingly, "I don't much care for your tone. Not having a pleasant evening, are we?"

Hermione felt herself dangerously near to cursing Malfoy, and took a deep breath. She thought briefly of leaving just to get away from him, but she was too stubborn to give in so easily. "I think that's an understatement, Malfoy, and I fear the evening's only getting worse as this conversation continues, so please be quiet before I feel the need to hex you."

"Don't bother with threats, Granger, you don't have it in you follow through with them."

Hermione stepped forward and pointed her wand at Draco's chest. "What makes you think so? I've done it before."

Draco smirked. "Are you really going to duel me, Granger?"

The idea appealed to Hermione, and, as hers was the only wand raised, she would definitely have an advantage. But school rules prohibited dueling, and she couldn't imagine how horrible her punishment would be for attacking Malfoy in a deserted tower and just leaving him there. She lowered her wand and stepped back.

"I thought not," said Draco.

"Yes, imagine what your dear old dad would say if his son lost a fight to a muggle-born. Really, I'm doing you a favor," retorted Hermione.

Draco reacted so fast that Hermione barely saw him move. Before she knew it, his wand was several inches from her chest, his features fixed in an angry glare. He opened his mouth to speak, but a slight tapping sound interrupted his thoughts.

The two students turned, startled, towards the window, where they saw the outline of a hovering owl, a roll of parchment neatly strapped to its leg. Draco's face darkened at the sight of the owl, though Hermione didn't know why, and he dropped his wand to his side and stepped over to the window. Twisting the ancient latch, Draco opened the window and the bird landed gracefully on the stone sill, holding out its message patiently. Draco untied the letter and the owl disappeared back into the night.

Draco absent-mindedly closed the window and unrolled the parchment, seemingly having forgotten Hermione's presence. Hermione used his distraction to her advantage, turning to the window and letting her eyes travel freely over the glistening grounds.

A few minutes passed in silence, and Hermione's thoughts were elsewhere when she heard a crumpling sound behind her. She turned and saw Draco pitch his balled-up letter at the fire, then turn back to the window, running a hand through his hair in thought. The parchment had missed the fire, but only by a little, and the heat was slowly burning the edges of it. Curiosity got the better of Hermione and she whispered, "_Accio!_"

The crumpled letter flew into her hand, and to her relief, Draco hadn't heard her. She cast a quick glance in his direction and started quietly unfolding the parchment. The neatly-written message inside read:

_Draco,_

_I am assuming you got my earlier owl. The meeting this afternoon was brief, but I received more information concerning the war. I know we talked earlier this year about what would happen if our side pulled everything together and it started within the school year, but I had my doubts that everything would be organized so quickly. Of course, it may still be several months, but know that it will be in the first half of the New Year, of that I am now sure._

_I know this news will please you, but you cannot share what I have told you with anyone, even people you trust. I will keep you updated._

The letter was unsigned, but something told Hermione that it was most likely written by Lucius. The very thought of that man made her shiver, and the fact that he had avoided Azkaban made her blood boil. If anyone deserved that place, it was Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione refocused her thoughts on the letter, reading it over once again. The sound of Draco's voice made her jump several feet into the air.

"Granger, are you still…" Draco's voice trailed of as he turned around. Hermione looked guiltily up from the letter in her hands. "Is that…? Granger, do _not_ read that!" He crossed the room in several strides, until he stood directly in front of Hermione, who looked a bit frightened.

Draco reached for the parchment, but Hermione instinctively kept a tight grip on it. Draco finally tugged it from her grasp and immediately dropped it into the magical flames. He turned and glared at Hermione, who stared back determinedly.

"Did you read it?" he asked.

Hermione considered lying, but she doubted Draco would believe her, and she wasn't really afraid of him, so she told the truth. "Yes," she said.

Instead of threatening her with his wand again, which was the reaction Hermione had expected, Draco just let out a frustrated breath and cursed to himself, turning away from her. A somewhat awkward silence hung over the two for moment while Hermione gathered up the courage to speak.

"Was that from your father?" she asked.

Draco glanced back at her then returned his gaze to the opposite window. "Why would I tell you?"

Hermione shrugged. It was a reasonable question. She had just learned something she clearly wasn't supposed to know, and if whoever sent the letter ever found out that Hermione had read it, chances were that Draco would be in serious trouble. But this was about more than poor little Draco, she argued with herself, this was about a war that was about to change everything. Surely any decent human being would realize that the importance of this reached far beyond a bit of scolding or punishment. She replied, "Because that letter was about the _war_, Malfoy. Do you realize what's going to happen when it starts? Do you realize that people in our class are going to die? Do you even have the faintest idea of what this news means? Obviously not, because if you did, you would have done something by now."

"What the hell do you expect me to do, Granger?" asked Draco, turning around and stepping towards her again. He laughed mirthlessly, saying, "And you're supposed to be so smart. What do you think would happen if I had showed someone that letter? Do you honestly believe that this can be prevented?"

"Yes! If you had taken that letter to Dumbledore, he would've done something! Don't make excuses, Malfoy; don't even try to pretend that you care about stopping the war. I don't know why I bother having this conversation with you; you're on Voldemort's side, always have been, you and your entire family. The letter was right, wasn't it? You're _pleased_ with this news!" Hermione was half-shouting by the end of her little speech.

"What do _you_ know?" Draco shouted back. Hermione said nothing. "I'm serious, Granger! _What do you know?_ About this, about anything that you've said?" Still Hermione didn't reply. "Nothing, Granger. Nothing." He wasn't shouting anymore, but his voice was still harsh. After a moment's silence he returned his gaze to the window and said as politely as he could manage, "I would appreciate your not telling anyone about the letter."

Hermione considered leaving, but didn't actually move. "One of us should tell Dumbledore. If it's not going to be you, then--"

Draco let out another exasperated breath, then interrupted her, saying, "Look, do whatever you want, Granger. I wouldn't expect any more."

"What do you mean by _that_?" she asked coldly. Draco shook his head but said nothing aloud. Hermione was fighting an internal war with herself, debating whether she should leave and tell Dumbledore or stay until Draco convinced her to do otherwise. "Unless you can give me any reason _not_ to tell him," said Hermione slowly, "I'm going to tell the headmaster."

It was now Draco's turn for an internal war. Anything he could say that might convince her to keep quiet would divulge something else she wasn't supposed to know, yet if she told Dumbledore…Draco didn't even want to imagine what type of chaos would ensue. Dumbledore would probably tell the Ministry to keep an eye on any suspected Death Eaters, the Ministry would let slip the possibility of a war to the _Daily Prophet_, the magical world would read the news and panic, any surprise the Dark side had would disappear. If the Death Eaters ever found out that it was Draco that slipped up, which they undoubtedly would, his death was inevitable. He couldn't let Hermione tell Dumbledore. "That letter wasn't the first I've gotten. Throughout the school year I've been getting them, always with some small, vague pieces of news. They often contradict one another and rarely do they prove to hold any truth. This one, undoubtedly, is no different." Draco paused to examine her face, watching for any sign that might show him she was backing down, or at least that she understood. She just waited expectantly, so he continued, "If you were to tell Dumbledore, soon everyone would hear about what was happening, or really what _may_ be happening, and would panic. That wouldn't solve anything. It would, if anything, make things easier for the Dark Lord."

Hermione wondered briefly what his last statement really meant; was he for or against Voldemort? She had thought seconds ago that he was a strong supporter, always had been, but then why would he be talking her out of making life easier for the Dark side? Hermione decided to shelve these thoughts for the moment and think about what she should do. Draco's words were reasonable…maybe going to Dumbledore with a vague idea and absolutely no evidence to support it would not be the best choice. She decided to let it go for the time being, but didn't want Draco to think she was just going to let the matter drop. "I won't tell Dumbledore," she said after a long silence in which Draco had waited in anticipation, "but I'm not going to forget the letter." Draco's features showed immense relief, but he waited for her to follow up on the second part of her sentence. She didn't. She turned and left without saying another word, leaving Draco to feel slightly apprehensive as to what might happen in the weeks to come.

…

"Feel better, Hermione?" Harry asked, looking at her in concern as she entered the common room.

_No, not really,_ she thought, but smiled and said, "Yes, a little."

Harry smiled back. "Good. Too bad you missed the feast, though."

"Yeah, it was great," added Ron.

Hermione nodded distractedly, not really hearing what her friends were saying. "I think I'll just head up to bed. I'm not really up for doing anything else tonight."

"Alright, 'night Hermione."

"Goodnight." Hermione headed up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. She opened the door and was relieved to find that no one else was there yet. Looking at her watch, she realized it was still only nine o'clock, and as it was Christmas, many people wouldn't even think of bed for another hour or so.

Hermione walked over to the windowsill near her bed and sat, looking out at the lower parts of the castle, and beyond that, the forbidden forest. She rested her head against the cold glass and found her eyes traveling involuntarily to a small tower down below. A faint light shined out through the dusty windows, and she thought for a moment that she saw someone briefly framed in the doorway of the tower. The faint light disappeared--Hermione was pretty sure it had been a wand light--and she couldn't see into the tower anymore.

Hermione's thoughts drifted to the letter from Lucius. The bits of it she could remember word for word replayed themselves over and over in her mind. Thinking about it was going to drive her insane, but she couldn't help it. It wouldn't leave her alone.

She had made it sound like she had a plan that she wasn't revealing when she left the tower, but in reality, she no idea what she was going to do about any of this. She could waste her time following Draco around, waiting until he got another letter and then find some way to steal it before he destroyed it…not a promising solution, and their was always the possibility that Draco would notice her following him around and hex her or something. There really wasn't any reasonable way to follow up on what she had learned so far.

Frustrated, Hermione got ready for bed and fell asleep trying to convince herself that Draco was right; the letter was probably wrong, and she could forget about it.

…

Draco put out the magical fire with his wand, watching the flames dim and then disappear altogether. He stood motionless in the center of the room for a moment, thinking and wondering about what would really happen. Would there ever really be a war? Obviously Lucius thought so, but he had been wrong in the past. Would Hermione ever talk to Dumbledore? Would she ever do anything about what she had learned? If only she would just forget about it…

Draco kicked the stone wall behind him in frustration with himself. _Of course! _he thought, _I just should've modified her memory! She'd have forgotten the letter, talking to Dumbledore, the war, everything! _Draco was angrier with himself than he ever remembered being. At least he hadn't told her too much, but the idea that there was an easy way out of this and he hadn't thought of it made him furious.

Well, perhaps it wouldn't have been _that_ easy. Hermione probably would have cursed him before he said the first syllable of the spell. All the same, he'd had a chance, and he'd missed it.

"_Lumos_," Draco whispered, walking to the doorway. He paused to look at the long string of stairs beneath him, and then started down them.


	2. Chapter 2

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 2**

The next couple of days passed without incident. Draco and Hermione didn't run into each other, but this may have been due to the fact that they were subconsciously avoiding one another. They both started to relax, thinking this uneasy peace could go on forever, but their hopes collapsed on the Wednesday after Christmas.

Hermione was sitting in one of her favorite chairs in the library, reading a novel she'd gotten from her mother for Christmas. Harry and Ron were outside with Seamus and Dean again for a rematch snowball fight. She'd turned down the invitation to join them, not feeling particularly in the mood for becoming cold and wet, and come to the library for its peace and quiet.

She leaned over slightly in her chair so that she could look out a nearby window on to the grounds; possibly to see what her friends were up to. She thought she saw there outlines over near Hagrid's hut and watched a few snowballs fly through the air before she was startled by a loud scraping noise above her. She jerked her head up to see a beautiful grey owl with a parchment tied to its leg floating close to the upper part of the window. She looked up at it for a moment; it looked somewhat familiar….

Hermione realized whose it was and quickly looked around to see if he was nearby. Obviously he was, or else the owl wouldn't have come to the library. Sure enough, Draco Malfoy sat with his back to Hermione on the other side of the room, looking through that day's _Daily Prophet_.

Hermione bit her lip and looked back to the owl. With one last look in Draco's direction, Hermione stood on her chair and opened the window slightly. The owl could fit through the small crack, but Hermione could reach through and tug the parchment from its leg. The bird didn't seem too happy about this; it started pecking at Hermione's hand. She managed to get the letter free, however, and closed the window. The owl, defeated, flew off into the afternoon sky.

Hermione sat back down in her chair and unrolled the parchment, ignoring the feeling of guilt in her stomach. The message read:

_Draco,_

_I know my last letter was only three days ago, but so much is happening so quickly now. The Dark Lord isn't revealing too much to anyone yet, for good reason, but he's made us aware that various steps are being taken to prepare our side for the war. I've been assigned a duty out of town, so I'm afraid I won't be able to provide you with updates until I return. _

_I know it frustrates you, but you really aren't in a position to help while you are at school. Your part will come soon, once everything gets started. Until then, keep all that you know quiet._

Once again, it was unsigned, but Hermione had no doubt that it was also from Lucius. She read through it again, looking for the most important parts. _Various steps are being taken to prepare our side_? What were these steps? Clearly the Dark side was going to have a strategy long before anyone else even knew there was going to _be_ a war. That wasn't hope-inspiring.

The last part confused Hermione. Obviously Lucius firmly believed that Draco was waiting eagerly to become a Death Eater and assist the Dark Lord in any way possible. Why was it that Hermione had such trouble accepting this idea? Surely Draco's family had been planning that future for him since a young age…but Hermione just couldn't really picture Draco as a Death Eater, _killing_ people.

Draco was an irritating, arrogant bastard; Hermione would be the first to admit that, but truly evil? Laying his life on the line to serve an evil cause? She found this a bit of a stretch.

"So you and my father are suddenly pen pals, Granger?"

Hermione spun around to find Draco looking at her accusingly, his arms crossed. "I-," Hermione stuttered, "W-What do you…What are you talking about, Malfoy?" she asked, wrapped her fist around the letter from Lucius.

"I just had a very peculiar vision," said Draco, actually looking somewhat amused, "Of you standing on an ancient old armchair, reaching out of a window, and taking a small parchment off of my family owl. Any explanations?" He stepped closer and extended his hand expectantly, "Or the letter, perhaps?"

"That was, er, my _Daily Prophet_ owl," Hermione lied lamely, "I've renewed my subscription."

"Granger, you're a terrible liar, and you're really starting to annoy the hell out of me, so just give me the letter before I have to hex you." It was killing Draco not to be able to just stun her and take the letter that was rightfully _his_, but he couldn't let himself anger Hermione when she held all the information needed to get him in a deadly position. It took an enormous amount of strain on his part, but so far he was managing it.

Hermione knew she was caught, but didn't want to hand over the letter, for fear that Draco might destroy it as well. "You can have it," she said, "_if_ you don't throw it in the fire."

"You can't tell me what to do," said Draco instinctively.

"I think, Malfoy," she said, holding up the letter, "that I can."

Draco was sick of this. He wrenched the letter from Hermione's firm grip and started reading it. Hermione watched him read and said, "It seems that at least your father thinks that this is all going to happen; the war is going to start soon." Draco didn't even look up from the letter. "Maybe," said Hermione slowly, "it's time Dumbledore knew about this."

"I don't think so, Granger," said Draco, crumpling up the note and heading quickly towards the library fire. Hermione tried to stop him, but Draco quickened his pace and before long, the letter was burning in the bright orange flames.

Hermione glared at him. "You are _unbelievable_. If you would just stop thinking about yourself for about two seconds, you might realize how utterly stupid you are being and that telling--"

"You two, no talking! I must ask you to leave the library!" said a very upset Madam Pince, "I thought two older students such as yourselves would know better by now." She escorted them from the library saying there were many places in the school for talking and that the library was the least suitable, and other such things.

After the librarian had left them, Hermione said, "I know you don't want to waste your precious time, but we need to talk about this."

To her surprise, Draco let out a tired sigh and said, "Fine. If you insist, we can talk about this, but not now."

"Really?" Hermione couldn't hide her disbelief at Draco's cooperation. "I mean, alright, fine. How about Saturday evening? In the tower, because not that many people know about it." _I used to think I was the only one,_ she added to herself.

"Saturday is New Year's Eve. Isn't there another feast?"

"Well, then that's perfect. Everyone else will be at the feast, so we'll have some time. I mean, unless you're _dying_ to go or something…"

Draco shrugged. "No, not really. The tower then, seven o'clock?"

"Fine."

Hermione and Draco then headed down the corridor in opposite directions, towards their respective dormitories. Neither was looking forward to their meeting, but both knew that it was necessary, though maybe for different reasons. Hermione needed to figure out where Draco stood and try to convince him that they should tell Dumbledore. Without him, Hermione had absolutely nothing to support her claim, and kind as Dumbledore was, he couldn't act on nothing. Draco felt he had no choice in the matter of their meeting. He knew if he didn't, Hermione would almost certainly make him regret it, whether through telling someone about the letters or following him around until he got another one, or something else that would make his life miserable. The best he could hope for was to somehow convince Hermione on Saturday evening to forget about what she knew and make her leave him alone.

…

Saturday evening came more quickly than either of the students expected or particularly wanted. Around them, their classmates were enjoying the break from classes, but Hermione found herself almost wishing that classes would start again, and she'd have something else to think about besides her precarious situation with Draco and the coming war. Draco also had a hard time not thinking about it, as he had virtually no one to talk to, having told Crabbe and Goyle to leave him alone earlier in the term. He honestly didn't mind their absence, but he did begin to hope for some form of distraction so that he would not drive himself to insanity thinking about what might happen in the future if he didn't succeed in getting Hermione off his back.

At six thirty on Saturday evening, the Slytherin common room started to empty as students walked to the Great Hall for the New Year's feast. Most of them were cheerful and Draco started to envy them as the time he was supposed to meet Hermione grew closer. He finally left at quarter to seven, taking the long way to the tower so that he might avoid any contact with students on their way to the feast. He wasn't prepared to tell anyone why he wasn't headed to the Great Hall with them. Not that anyone would ask, but Draco decided not to take a chance.

He reached the tower with five minutes to spare. Hermione wasn't there yet, so Draco walked over to the opposite window and spent a moment staring out onto the dark grounds. He again began to think about what the war would bring. Would the school close? Would there be fighting on the expansive grounds below him? Would this view be the same in a few years?

He drummed his fingers on the window sill in thought. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that the war would be devastating for both sides. Clearly the Dark Lord thought he had the upper hand, but that didn't mean people on the Dark side wouldn't die. Many would, possibly people in Draco's own family. Obviously Lucius was wanted dead--or at least in Azkaban--by quite a few, but he had ways of getting himself out of harm's way. Draco wasn't unduly worried about him.

But it wasn't really the deaths that made Draco worry about the war, and he knew that. There was an internal conflict in Draco that made him dread what was coming. Even he didn't really know what this conflict was between, but he felt certain that a big decision lay in his near future. Something that he would have to decide without his father's aid, something Draco'd rarely done before.

In the midst of these thoughts and others like them, Draco heard quiet clicking sounds behind him. He heard them, but he didn't turn around until he saw the faint glow of a lit wand reflected in the glass before him. He took a breath to ready himself and turned around.

"Evening, Malfoy," said Hermione.

"Granger," Draco acknowledged.

"Nox," Hermione whispered to her wand, and the faint light disappeared. She glanced at her watch. "Sorry I'm late," she said, pocketing her wand and stepping over to where Draco was.

Draco didn't say anything. He was trying to form some sort of plan in his mind for what he would say to convince Hermione not to do anything about what she knew, at least not yet, but Hermione started in first.

"Alright, I need to ask you a couple of questions to understand a few things," she said. "First, what _exactly _do you not like about the idea of showing the Headmaster one of your letters? Or at least telling him about them?"

"I already answered that, the other night when this first came up."

"What, that stuff about a rumor of the war spreading and everyone panicking? Surely that's not your _only_ concern." Hermione, desperate to have a decent conversation, resisted the urge to say he was too self-centered for that to be his only worry.

"Why does it matter what my other concerns are? Surely that one's reason enough for you not to tell Dumbledore."

"It's not, actually, so why don't you just tell me what's really bothering you? It would save us both so much time and energy."

Draco didn't answer at first. He didn't _want_ to tell Hermione the real story. He knew she wouldn't care and that it wouldn't support his argument. He would come off lokking cowardly and insecure, neither of which he particularly wanted one of his worst enemies to see. Who knew how that would come back to haunt him? He finally decided to be vague in what he said; then he wouldn't _really_ be saying much and maybe she would drop it. "Let's just say that no one would be particularly happy with me if I just handed information to Dumbledore."

_Well, obviously,_ thought Hermione, _I guess I could've figured that out on my own._ She started to feel irritated with herself for asking the question, but then she began to wonder what Draco meant by saying people wouldn't be "happy" with him. It's not like his excuse was a matter of life and death; Lucius would never actually _harm_ his beloved son. "What do you mean by 'no one would be particularly happy' with you? If it's just a matter of your father being a bit angry with you, I hardly think that's a valid reason."

_A bit angry? _thought Draco, _Is_ _that honestly what she thinks I meant?_ "Are you serious, Granger? I guess I was giving you too much credit, but I thought you were smarter than that."

"What do you mean, then?"

Draco just looked at her, with some concern. She just couldn't comprehend it, could she? "Nevermind. Alright, I answered your question, now it's your turn to answer one of mine. What makes you think that Dumbledore doesn't already know as much as, or _more_, than you do? That possibly he doesn't need your input? That telling him and making my life miserable is really going to help anyone?"

Hermione didn't reply for a moment, realizing that Draco had brought up a fair point. Especially since she had seen the look on Dumbledore's face on Christmas, an obvious indication that he knew _something_. The question was how much Dumbledore knew, and if she really knew any more than he did. However, not wanting to back down just yet, she said, "Well, there's a possibility he might know, I admit, but just telling him there'sgoing to be a war isn't really the point. The point is that you have a steady source of news that can be of enormous value to the Headmaster, who might actually be able to do something about it."

"So what you're really asking is for me to just hand over all the letters I get from my father to Dumbledore, and betray not only my father, but the Dark Lord? All the while hoping that no one finds out, and that if they do, they'll just be _a bit angry_? Are you even thinking about what you're suggesting?" Draco couldn't believe Hermione was being this thick. All the years he'd hated her, he'd never thought she was _stupid_, but now he began to wonder.

Hermione was feeling more and more foolish as the night went on. She saw now that she was being incredibly naïve when she thought that Draco wouldn't be punished very severely for his actions. They were talking about Voldemort and his followers, people who were likely to punish the smallest mistake with death. Handing over information to the other side was not usually considered a _small_ mistake. It was seeming more and more that Draco was right, but Hermione wasn't quite ready to admit that yet, so she conjured a stool for herself and sat down to think for a bit.

Draco followed suit and watched Hermione as she thought, her head resting in the palm of her hand, her eyes unfocused. She was clearly on the verge of giving up, so Draco let himself relax a little. Maybe this whole thing would be over soon.

A few minutes passed while both Hermione in Draco got somewhat lost in their thoughts. Finally Draco said, "So have I won the argument yet?"

Hermione looked over at him. "For now," she said.

Draco smirked. He doubted anyone had ever made Hermione fully admit she had lost. He found her stubbornness kind of amusing, when it wasn't giving him a headache or irritating the hell out of him. In fact, when she was frustrated, she looked kind of…cute.

_Where did that come from?_ Draco's mind asked him. He blinked and looked down at the floor, as if this would somehow erase such thoughts from his mind. Little did he know that he wasn't the only one thinking that way.

A foot or two away, Hermione looked at Draco wondering if, were they not enemies, she might find him somewhat attractive. In reality, despite their mutual dislike for one another, she found him attractive, but her mind refused to admit to that. He didn't look like an arrogant, self-centered, prejudiced rich boy at the moment. Maybe that helped.

Draco looked up again and found Hermione's eyes on him. He didn't know why he did it, but he suddenly felt inclined to lean forward slightly. Hermione did the same, and a second later, their lips touched, and they kissed.

It just seemed sort of natural for both at the time; neither of them thought about it before it suddenly happened. It wasn't a bad experience on either part, by any means, merely _unexpected_.

Hermione didn't know how long they sat there, or how her hand had found its own way to the back of Draco's neck, or how she hadn't realized before that his hand was on her waist. The passion of their kiss seemed to be growing with every second, and it frightened Hermione a bit. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy this, but her mind was suddenly catching onto the fact that this was _Draco Malfoy_.

That one thought was enough for Hermione. She pulled out of the kiss and stood up. Draco looked a little dazed and Hermione didn't wait for him to recover. "I should go. The feast is probably over by now." She stepped through the stone archway and pulled out her wand. "_Lumos_," she whispered, quickening her pace down the steps. She was so busy looking at her feet and the next few steps that she fell into the tapestry without seeing it.

"Ow," she moaned, getting up from the floor space outside the secret entrance to the tower. She slowed her pace and headed off to Gryffindor tower wondering if the entire evening was some sort of bizarre dream she was having. It was the only reasonable explanation she could come up with.

…

Draco listened to the sounds of Hermione's footsteps as she disappeared down the steps. He was still recovering from what had happened and her abrupt departure. The whole thing was rather strange. He wouldn't have thought something so different would have seemed so…_necessary_, somehow. He couldn't explain it, so he didn't try.

He sat for a moment thinking it all over and then stood, vanishing the two stools they'd conjured earlier. With a last mystified look back at the tower room, he started down the long stairwell.

…

The last days of vacation flew by and melted into the new term, which few students welcomed. This meant classes resuming, homework taking over all free time, and, for a few, increased worry about the war.

Hermione could see it was starting to affect Harry too. He looked tired all the time, as if he was constantly awoken by nightmares involving You-Know-Who. However, Harry didn't speak of any dreams he may have had, so Hermione thought she may be imagining things. It was only when Harry pulled her aside in the common room on one evening in January that Hermione realized she was right.

"Hermione, could I talk with you for a moment?" Harry asked, looking worse than Hermione had ever seen him.

"Of course, Harry," she said, closing her book and resting it on a table. She followed him into a deserted corner. "Harry, what's wrong?" she asked, deeply concerned.

Harry looked around briefly, as if he was worried about being overheard. "Hermione," he whispered almost inaudibly, "lately I've been having, well, I guess _nightmares_ would be the best word." Hermione nodded for him to continue. "And these aren't normal nightmares, even by my standards. They're about fighting, _constant_ fighting…most likely the war. And," he paused, more upset than Hermione had seen him since his godfather died, "in every single dream, someone dies, someone on _our_ side, different people every time." He looked severely shaken.

Hermione tried to comfort him. "Harry, I know you're worried about the war, and have good reason to be, but isn't it possible that your worst fears have merely carried over into your dreams? Isn't it possible that what you're seeing are just that--dreams? Or, nightmares, more like."

Harry looked into her eyes. "Hermione, I think we both know that's not what these are."

Hermione looked down, feeling tears well up in her eyes. If Harry knew that his dreams were more than that--_visions_, perhaps--then they most likely were. Yet again, her best friend had to deal with seeing these horrible pictures, and Hermione couldn't help him. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said softly, blinking away her tears, "I knew the war is going to change everything, but hearing you say it, I just…I don't think I've ever dreaded something so much." She reached out and hugged Harry, wishing he didn't have to deal with these visions on his own.

"It's alright, Hermione. We knew the war was coming, and it will come and go, like everything else. It needs to happen, for good or bad, you know that as well as I do. When it comes, we'll do what we have to, and…that's _all_ we can do," he finished quietly, with just a hint of helplessness in his voice.

…

Over the following days, Hermione tried as best she could to forget about Draco and what had happened between them. She didn't dare talk it over with Harry and Ron, who she had no doubt would react badly. She knew that they would not be able to understand exactly how this had come about; she didn't understand it herself. They would probably think that Malfoy had some evil scheme in mind, and that he was using her, or that he had put a spell of some sort on her. No, she couldn't tell them.

She ended up spending much more time on her own, wandering the halls of the school, spending long afternoons in the library…. She told herself that these walks alone were to focus her thoughts on forgetting about Draco and their meetings, but in the back of her mind, she knew that she went off on her own so that she _could_ think about him. She didn't know why she bothered; what had happened had surely just been a mistake--an odd relationship that wouldn't last. But she couldn't help wondering--or maybe hoping--that it might eventually turn into something more. After all, if it had happened at all, who was to say it wouldn't happen again?

…

Draco spent his days similarly to Hermione, though it marked less of a difference for him to spend most of his free time alone than it did her. Even before Christmas, he had often been by himself, whether he wandered the castle and grounds or sat in a dark corner of the Slytherin common room, where he went unnoticed.

He knew he shouldn't spend so much time thinking about her, but how could he prevent it? It was almost undoubtedly the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him. How many people deeply despise someone their whole lives and suddenly find themselves kissing the said someone? Draco was positive it didn't happen often.

He finally decided he _had_ to get her off his mind. After all, they were too different; nothing good could ever come from this. Could it?


	3. Chapter 3

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 3**

Hermione had some leisure time on a Saturday in mid-January and Harry and Ron had decided to practice quidditch down at the pitch.

"Do you want to come down to the pitch with us, Hermione?" Harry asked, his broom in hand, "We probably won't be out there very long; it's freezing outside."

Hermione put down her book and looked out the window at the snow-covered grounds. "I don't think I will, but have fun. I'll be down in the library."

It was all Harry could do not to roll his eyes. "Alright, then. See you later."

"'Bye," said Hermione, picking up her book to take to her dormitory.

She left through the portrait hole a minute or so later and headed towards the library. The halls seemed even colder than they usually were in the winter, and Hermione was relieved to see a large fire burning in the library. She instinctively headed towards the fiction section in search of a new novel.

While scanning the spines of books something caught Hermione's eye on the other side of the bookshelf. She thought it was a bird of some sort, but when she doubled back to look again, it was gone. There was a student on the other side however, that Hermione couldn't see very well but seemed to be sitting on the window ledge. Upon closer examination, she realized it was Draco.

Hermione instinctively took a step back, not wanting him to see her. But curiosity eventually got the better of her, and she found herself looking through a gap in the books to see what he was up to. He was reading something in his lap, but Hermione could tell it wasn't a book. It was…a small slip of parchment with writing that she couldn't make out from her position. She jumped slightly when Draco stood abruptly and started to cross the room towards the fireplace. It suddenly hit Hermione what the parchment was, and rushed from the row of books she was in to block his path.

"Wait! Malfoy!" she whispered when she got closer. He turned around, startled. "You got another letter. Let me see it!" She tried to take it, but he pulled it out of her reach.

"Why?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"You know perfectly well why; hand it over!"

"No."

"What harm could it do to let me see it, when I already know the worst of it?"

"This one isn't the same. You'd have no interest in it." He quickly tossed it into the flames before she could get her hands on it.

Hermione glared at him. "What did it say?"

Draco was tired of this, "None of your business, Granger! Forget about the letters and leave me alone!" He left the library quickly, not wanting to hear her angry reply. He walked faster, trying to ignore the pang of guilt he felt in his stomach. He soon found himself heading out the front doors onto the cold grounds. He could picture the letter he'd just received in his mind, and it made him feel somewhat ill:

_Draco,_

_I sincerely hope you have been spending your time wisely. The war rapidly approaches--be constantly alert. From the little pieces of information I have received, it seems it will begin in late February, but do not hold me to that; it could start tomorrow. When the time is closer, I will give you your instructions. Obviously the school will close, and everyone will be evacuated. I only hope we can find a way to use everyone's distraction to our advantage and get you back here quickly._

_Stay strong, and if for some reason you find yourself losing control, remember that you are a Malfoy and by acting like one you will regain control of that which is important._

Draco did not want to receive his instructions. He did not want to sneak out of school while everyone else was panicking and return to Malfoy manor, where he would be given far more horrible orders than making it out of school unnoticed. His forearm didn't yet bear the Dark Mark, but within a few months, it certainly would.

And then there was the last part. He'd read it and immediately thought of Hermione. What had happened between them was definitely the kind of thing his father meant when he said _regain control of that which is important._ Keeping the letters secret was important. Avoiding contact with muggle-borns was important. Draco had some regaining control to do.

He'd tried to regain control only a few minutes ago in the library, and he felt guiltier by the second. He couldn't even explain why, except that what he'd said was a complete lie. He'd accidentally made his father's letters Hermione's business, and as for leaving him alone, he knew he didn't really want that either.

Despite what he wanted, perhaps his harshness would keep Hermione away, and that would probably prove to be best as time went on.

…

Hermione didn't take Draco's parting words very well. She watched him leave in a sort of stunned trance. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't what he'd said. She sat down in one of the library's chairs feeling very strange. She knew that under normal circumstances she would have been irritated, but that usually evaporated quickly, and didn't leave her with a queasy feeling.

She knew that whatever it was, it was all her fault; she'd led herself over the past weeks to believe that something in Draco was different, that he was changing for the better. She'd thought they wouldn't have been enemies anymore, that maybe a friendship could form between them.

If he meant what he said, it didn't seem likely.

…

Hermione felt a slight breeze on the back of her neck and opened her eyes. She looked around, confused. She was in the library and it was dark outside, from what she could see out the small window to her left. The flames of a few torches flickered. _I must have fallen asleep_, she thought to herself, lifting her head from the pages of her book and rubbing her sore neck.

She heard footsteps and the soft swishing of a cloak against the floor. She glanced at her watch, _ten o'clock_! She must have been exhausted to sleep from the late afternoon until ten. _If that's a teacher, detention is unavoidable_, she thought to herself miserably. She looked down the dim aisle expectantly, waiting for the person to appear from behind the shelves. She saw a dark figure round the corner, but couldn't make out who it was; the lighting was too dim.

The person jumped about three feet into the air upon seeing Hermione there. "Damn it, Granger, do you want to give me a heart attack!"

"Oh it's you," said Hermione flatly, recognizing the voice of Draco Malfoy.

Draco was still recovering. "What are you doing lurking around in the shadows of the library anyway?"

"Why do you care?" Hermione asked coolly. "And anyway, I could ask you the same question."

"True…" said Draco, "but you didn't answer my question."

"True…" said Hermione, "but you didn't answer mine."

"What? When did you ask anything?"

"If you recall--I know it was all of about two seconds ago, but I can see you're having trouble--I asked: _Why do you care?_"

"Oh. I guess I don't really."

"Exactly, so why did you ask?" she asked, glaring at him.

Draco stared at her. "Look, I didn't come here to see a psychiatrist, I just need a book."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's nice, Malfoy. Bye." She picked up her book and made to leave.

"Bye, Granger. This was fun. Let's do it again sometime," said Draco blandly, pulling a slip of paper out of his pocket.

Hermione didn't respond and headed for the library doors. She pushed one with her hand. It didn't budge. She pushed harder. Still the door didn't move. It was clearly locked. "_Alohomora!_" Still nothing.

"Malfoy!" she shouted, frustrated.

"Yes, Granger?" he drawled from somewhere in the darkness.

"How do I get out of here?"

"Did you try the _door_?" came the sarcastic reply.

"No, I tried to open the wall," said Hermione, just as sarcastically.

Draco's head appeared from around the corner. "Well there's your problem right there. Glad I could be of service."

Hermione shot him an angry look. "I'm serious, Malfoy. The door won't open." Draco heaved a dramatic sigh and walked over to her. He pressed his hand against the wood of the door and gave a slight push. Hermione smiled when the door didn't move. "Hate to say 'I told you so.'"

Draco didn't bother responding. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and mumbled, "_Puertabra._" Something clicked and the door swung open. Draco grinned as the smile disappeared from Hermione's face. "Smartest witch in the class _indeed_."

"Thanks for your help, Malfoy," said Hermione dryly. "Why was it locked, anyway?"

Draco looked down at his watch. "Madam Pince probably locks up the library at nine-thirty." He raised an eyebrow at her. "That is, after all, when everybody is supposed to be in their dormitories."

Hermione caught his look. "Alright, so I fell asleep. What's _your_ excuse for being out of bed after hours?"

He shrugged. "I wasn't tired."

Hermione fought off the urge to roll her eyes again. "Typical," she said under her breath.

Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "And what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Hermione shrugged casually, adjusting her bag and stepping into the hallway. "Nothing," she said.

Draco grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him before she could leave. "I doubt you didn't mean it. Come on, Granger, I'm pretty sure I can take whatever insult was hidden in that one word."

Hermione was not comfortable with her current position. Draco still had his hand on her upper arm and the distance between them was far too short. She swallowed and tried to keep her voice steady as she said softly, "You just don't seem to care much for the rules, is all."

"You're right;" said Draco, "I don't." With that, he closed the little distance between them and caught her in a kiss. She stiffened, surprised, but soon melted into him. Her bag slipped off her shoulder and fell to the floor, but Hermione didn't even notice. Why was it that a very strange sensation flooded her body when she kissed Draco? Questions popped into her head as she stood there, but they each disappeared rather quickly when Hermione couldn't answer them. Draco's mind didn't bother with questions, rather it just focused on how insane he was to be doing this but yet how much he _liked_ it. Neither knew nor cared when they would stop, but a voice soon interrupted them:

"Hello? Is someone in here?"

Hermione and Draco sprang apart. Both froze, waiting for someone to appear.

"Hello?" repeated the voice, "Students?"

Hermione quickly grabbed her bag, which lay a few feet away. At the moment Hermione stood up again, Madam Pince rounded the corner in a bathrobe, holding a small candle up in the darkness.

"Ms. Granger! Mr. Malfoy! What are you two doing out of bed at this hour? How did you get in here?" She demanded, quickening her pace upon spotting them.

"Sorry, Madam Pince, I fell asleep reading here this afternoon. I…I was just leaving." _Well_, thought Hermione, _at least _some_ of that is truthful_.

Madam Pince turned her glare from Hermione to Draco. "And you, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco hesitated. He really had no excuse for being there. And as for how he got in, he knew a passageway into the library from the dungeons that was rarely, if ever, used by anyone else. He didn't much feel like telling Madam Pince about it. "I…" he looked to Hermione for help. She caught his look and just barely tapped the face of her watch and carefully nodded towards the bookshelf behind her, knowing Madam Pince wouldn't see her small movements with her back to Hermione as it was. "I lost track of time and came here to get a book I need," said Draco.

Madam Pince frowned at them. "You both know detentions are in order. Expect to hear from your heads of house in the morning. For now, go to your dormitories." She watched the two students leave the library and headed back to her sleeping quarters, shaking her head and muttering, "_youth_."

Hermione and Draco quickly left the library and headed towards the nearest staircase. Hermione was a few steps ahead and Draco caught up with her before she went up to Gryffindor tower. "Thanks for that, Granger," he whispered in her ear before giving her a quick kiss and descending the stairs.

Hermione, caught off guard, watched him disappear down the staircase. She allowed herself a small smile as she headed up the steps to her dormitory.

…

"Ms. Granger, may I speak with you for a moment please?" Professor McGonagall asked at breakfast the next day.

Harry and Ron looked at Hermione in confusion. "I'll be back in a minute," she told them and left the Great Hall with her head of house.

When they were out in the corridor, Professor McGonagall turned and frowned at Hermione. "Madam Pince has just told me about last night. I must say, I'm surprised at you."

Hermione looked down ashamedly. "Sorry, Professor."

Professor McGonagall gave her a small smile. "I understand, Ms. Granger, but nonetheless, you must serve detention. Apparently, some second-year students made a large mess in room in the dungeons. I expect to see you downstairs at eight o'clock this evening to help clean it up. Mr. Malfoy will be assisting you."

Hermione nodded, not looking forward to cleaning up whatever the "large mess" was.

Her professor left, and Hermione headed back into the Great Hall. She sat down in her seat, somewhat gloomier than she had been before.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry, noticing her expression.

Hermione looked down at her plate. Harry and Ron didn't yet know she had gotten into trouble the night before. What should she say? Obviously some details would have to be left out, but for the most part, the truth would work. "I've got detention tonight."

Ron looked shocked. "What? Why?"

She moved some food around on her plate. "I fell asleep in the library yesterday, and when I woke up, it was ten o'clock."

"In the evening?" asked Ron incredulously.

"No, Ron," said Hermione with a straight face, "I woke up two hours from now."

Harry broke in to prevent an argument, "Anyway, what happened?"

"Madam Pince found me and told me I'd get a detention today," said Hermione, purposefully leaving out quite a bit of the story.

"But that's not really fair; you couldn't help falling asleep," Harry pointed out logically.

Hermione shrugged. "True, but rules are rules."

"Right…"said Harry, looking at her for a moment. It seemed to Harry that Hermione had been acting a little strange lately; always taking long walks on her own, staring off into space, looking both anxious and a bit confused most of the time…. She just wasn't behaving as she normally did. He knew he should ask her about it, but knowing the way she was now, she'd probably just say that nothing was wrong; that she'd been busy, that's all. Harry seriously doubted this, but still kept his thoughts to himself.


	4. Chapter 4

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 4**

Hermione descended the last few steps down to the dungeons a little before eight o'clock and found Professors McGonagall and Snape waiting there. Snape looked in his usual bad temper, but Professor McGonagall offered a small smile. "Ah, Ms. Granger," she said, "I'll take you to the room, then. Severus, will you bring Mr. Malfoy when he arrives?"

Professor Snape nodded, and Professor McGonagall led Hermione away. Several long passageways and sharp turns later, Hermione found herself standing in the doorway of a room absolutely _covered_ in slime of many different colors. Hermione didn't think there was a single square foot in the entire room that didn't have muck on it.

Professor McGonagall gestured towards a cart of muggle cleaning supplies in the center of the room. "Due to the fact that this is a punishment, no magic is allowed. I'll be taking your wand for the time being," she said, waiting as Hermione fished her wand out of her robes, "You may collect it from me in my office when you are finished."

Hermione forced a smile and watched her teacher leave. She slowly made her way over to the cart, trying not to step in goo. She heard the sound of footsteps outside the door and turned in time to see Draco and Professor Snape enter the room. Draco didn't bother stopping the disgusted groan that escaped from his lips.

"I'll need your wand, Mr. Malfoy," said Snape, extending his hand.

Draco looked at him as though he were joking. "What?" he asked, obviously not understanding.

Hermione sighed. "We can't use our wands, Malfoy. Muggle cleaning supplies only--that's the punishment."

"Thank you, Ms. Granger," said Snape coldly, not looking at her. "Now your wand, Mr. Malfoy."

Grudgingly, Draco handed over his wand. Snape left without another word.

Draco stepped around the puddles of slime to the cart of supplies. "What is this stuff anyway?" He leaned down, reaching for some of the slime.

Hermione instinctively threw out her arm to stop him from touching it. "Are you crazy? We don't know what that is! It could take your finger off or something!"

Draco stared at her.

"Alright, it's probably harmless," she admitted, "But you can't be too cautious, can you?"

"Right…" said Draco, still looking at her as though she were insane, "Anyway, how do you use this stuff?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to stare disbelievingly. "_Please_ tell me you're joking." By the look on his face, it didn't seem so. "Okay…let's start with the basics. This is a _mop_." She took one in her hand. "This is how you _use_ a mop." She dunked it in a pale of soapy water and moved it back and forth on the floor. "Understand?" she asked, looking at him as though he were four years old.

"Yes, Granger, I _understand_. Give me that." He snatched the mop out of her hand and started using it.

Hermione watched him clean the floor thinking that this was the first--and probably last--time that she would ever see Draco Malfoy working.

Draco caught her staring at him. "_Yes_, Granger," he snapped, "I _am_ capable of working, just like other people."

Hermione laughed. "So you are. Who knew?" She found a large spoon-like object hanging off the cart and started scooping up the slime off the floor and tossing it into an empty bucket.

They cleaned for a while and before long, the floor was looking halfway decent. "Not bad," commented Hermione, standing in a corner and examining their progress.

Draco looked as though he had never done anything so strenuous, which, Hermione reminded herself, he probably hadn't. "Aren't we done yet?" he whined, tossing his mop against the wall and looking down at his watch. "It's nearly nine," he moaned.

Hermione looked at him in exasperation. "It's only been an hour, Draco, pull yourself together." She picked up her large spoon again and began scraping the walls with it.

Draco froze, watching her. She'd called him by his first name. She'd said it casually, as if they'd been friends for years. _Oh, the irony_, thought Draco, shaking himself out of his stunned trance. As Hermione scraped her way along the wall, much of the goop fell onto the floor, so Draco picked up his mop again and cleaned up the small puddles. They worked in silence, not having much to say and too disgusted with the task they had been assigned.

Hermione found a large clump of slime plastered onto the wall and spent some time trying to get it all off. She stepped forward to have easier access to it, and because she wasn't looking, slipped in a puddle that had obviously formed since they had finished the floor. She gasped, surprised, as she lost her balance. Fortunately, Draco jumped forward and caught her before she landed in the unknown substance.

The two stiffened, noticing their closeness. Draco looked down into Hermione's somewhat confused eyes and pulled her to a standing position. Silence. "Thanks," Hermione finally said.

Draco shrugged, a smile barely tugging at the corners of his mouth. "We still don't know what this stuff is. You could dissolve in it or something," he said, remembering Hermione's earlier worry.

She kept a straight face. "It's entirely possible. Clearly, I owe you my life."

"Naturally, you do," Draco pretended to think it over, "but I'm willing to settle for something a little less…_drastic_."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

Draco nodded, "I think so." He leaned forward slightly, gently pressing his lips to hers. She closed her eyes and put her hands up on his shoulders as he slid his other arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Draco deepened the kiss and Hermione didn't object. Something in the atmosphere changed when they were together like this, and though neither could tell what it was, neither disliked it.

Draco pulled away slowly and smirked. "Consider your debt repaid."

Hermione laughed, "You're too kind."

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed into the room and Hermione and Draco instinctively distanced themselves. A moment later, Professor McGonagall entered the room, looking worried. She looked over at the two students and Hermione thought she saw a sense of relief show itself on McGonagall's features, but it soon disappeared.

"Students," she said, stepping over to them, "Professor Snape and I have just discovered that the potion that accidentally exploded in here earlier was in fact probably a variant of the _Morduermin_ potion. As you probably know, the effects of this potion can possibly be fatal if it comes in contact with any part of your body. Had we known this sooner, we would not have set this project as your detention. However, the key ingredient of this potion is missing from Professor Snape's storeroom, and though it may not have been taken by the second-years that caused this explosion, we can't allow you to remain in this room any longer."

Hermione was confused. "Are you saying that _second-years_ were trying to brew _Morduermin _in secret?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "No, it seems they were attempting to brew the sleeping potion _Sonurem_ but used the wrong ingredients. They earlier said they misread the instructions," her face looked very stern, "I will be speaking to them again later."

Hermione felt some sympathy for the younger students. After all, she, Ron, and Harry had brewed a potion in secret in _their_ second year. Thankfully, they hadn't been caught. But then again, Hermione noted with a bit of pride, _their_ potion hadn't exploded.

Professor McGonagall gestured for them to leave, and they did so. In the hallway, the professor turned to them and said very seriously, "Neither of you came in contact with the potion, correct?" The two students nodded. "Good. I hope you both understand how lucky you are. Here are your wands," She them their wands and turned to walk away, but then paused, looking back at them, "Your detentions have been completed. You may return to your dormitories." She walked away.

"So…" said Draco, after Professor McGonagall had disappeared around a corner, "the stuff really _was_ dangerous."

"So it was."

Draco turned to her and said, mock-dramatically, "I owe you my life."

"Oh, nothing so _drastic_, Malfoy." She thought for a moment and sighed heavily, "Because I'm such a generous person, I'm willing to call it even." She stood on her toes gave him a brief kiss. "Goodnight, Malfoy." She smiled and walked down the corridor towards the stairs.

Draco watched her disappear from his sight with a small smile.

…

Thoughts were swirling about so quickly in Hermione's head during her walk to Gryffindor tower that she couldn't understand one before it was whisked away by another. Why did she suddenly find it tolerable, perhaps even _enjoyable_, to be in the company of Draco Malfoy? Why did she feel like an entirely different person around him? Why did _he_ seem like an entirely different person than the one she had known since her arrival at Hogwarts? Why did their kisses happen, and _why_ did she enjoy them? Why had she just kissed him voluntarily? _That's not like me_, Hermione thought to herself, _I'm not that easy _or_ that bold. He's MALFOY! What is he doing to me?_

Hermione slowed gradually as these thoughts crossed her mind, and came to a stop outside a familiar tapestry. With only a slight hesitation, Hermione pulled out her wand and tapped the tapestry three times. It wiggled and rolled itself neatly up, revealing the dark stairwell.

"_Lumos_," Hermione whispered softly, stepping through the archway. She ascended the steps, seeing only as far as the turns in the spiral staircase would allow. Hermione knew that no one would be up there. She didn't know how she knew; after all, she clearly wasn't the only one who had discovered the tower. All Hermione knew was that she needed a little time to think things over, and the silence and dark of the tower were perfect.

She reached the top and saw the white moonlight softly illuminating the stone floor and whispered, "_Nox_." She stepped across to a window and stared out at the grassy, open spaces of the Hogwarts grounds. The lake rippled in the slight breeze beneath her. The mysterious dark of the Forbidden Forest lay off to her right and Hermione couldn't help but think what an amazing sight this was.

It was so easy to think up there, and Hermione found she could analyze her thoughts and feelings without much effort. Time slipped quickly by and though she still couldn't answer many of her own questions, Hermione came to the conclusion that what was happening between her and Draco could no longer be called an accident. Maybe, just maybe, a friendship--or perhaps, the way things were going, something more--could develop between them, and Hermione didn't feel inclined to stop it.

…

Draco woke up long before he had to, before any trace of the sun could be seen on the horizon. He lay awake, staring upwards but not seeing anything. His fellow Slytherins snored around him, oblivious to the troubled thoughts of their roommate.

Draco's thoughts were very similar to Hermione's, but he obviously had no way of knowing that. Things were happening to him that he never would have thought possible, let alone probable. He was thoroughly confused about what was happening between him and this girl he had known only as an enemy for so long. Worse, he had absolutely no idea what to do.

For his entire life, choices had been very clear to Draco. There was what his father expected of him, and then there was the opposing option. Draco had rarely had any doubts about what his father expected of him, and this was always the path he chose.

But now things were different. As always, it was very clear what his father would expect of him, but this time, Draco knew he had to think for himself. He couldn't follow the path his father was making for him his entire life. Well, he could, but did he want to? He didn't even have to think before he knew the answer to that.

Draco still pretended to his father that he cared about the Dark side and what Malfoys thought was appropriate. But how long could he keep up the lie? For a while now, Draco had been slowly understanding what the Dark side stood for, and he liked the idea less and less. Everything Draco had been brought up to believe, everything that was "right," Draco no longer felt secure about. It was becoming clearer and clearer that when Draco thought for himself, his idea of what was right did not match that of his father.

The question of what he should do about the war was plaguing his mind nearly constantly these days. Even more so than the one of what he should do about his strange relationship with Hermione. His father would be expecting him when the time came and Draco knew that if he didn't follow his father's instructions, a number of things could happen to him. If he fought for the other side, he could very likely be killed; it wasn't inconceivable that Lucius would have his own son murdered for betrayal. If he ran away, he would almost certainly be found. Yet if he joined the Death Eaters, he would be fighting for a cause he didn't believe in, under people he hated.

His life or what was right? A tough decision by anyone's standards. Yet it wasn't the only one he had to make. What was he going to do about Hermione? A part of him was just too curious as to where this would all go, and he couldn't deny that he was beginning to like being with her. She was so full of a personality he had never known, and he wanted to know more. She seemed willing to forgive him for his actions in the past, but something in her eyes told him that she doubted him. It was as if she questioned the idea of him changing but was willing to stick around to see if it happened.

But this had all happened at such a bad time! The war was approaching; this was _not_ the time to get friendly with people on the other side. What would happen if Draco did what his father asked of him and joined the Dark side? Would he be able to bear fighting against a…what was Hermione to him anyway? A girlfriend? Not exactly. An enemy? It didn't seem so anymore. A friend? Possibly.

Frustrated about not really understanding his situation, Draco reached over to his beside table and pulled a sleeping potion out of one of the drawers. He gulped down several mouthfuls and felt drowsiness come over him instantly.

He fell asleep having figured out only one thing: Lucius no longer had the influence over Draco that he once did, and now, however difficult, Draco knew he had to make his own decisions.

…

Hermione climbed through the portrait hole to the Gryffindor common room a little after ten. As there were classes the next day, many of the younger students had already gone to bed. A few fifth- and sixth-years were studying in various spots, but Hermione didn't know any of them. She saw Harry reading a book in front of the fire and walked over to sit next to him.

"Oh hi, Hermione," said Harry, seeing her and closing his book.

"Hi, Harry," she replied, smiling, "Studying?"

"Sort of," he said, looking down at his book, "My mind keeps wandering, so I think I've read the same sentence about a hundred times."

Hermione laughed. "You look exhausted," she observed, seeing the tiredness in her friend's features.

Harry stared into the fire. "I haven't been getting much sleep lately."

Hermione nodded, remembering their conversation about Harry's dreams. If anybody should be worried about the war, it was Harry. Hermione couldn't think of anything true to tell him that would make him feel a bit better. They were silent for a moment, and then she said softly, "I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry turned and smiled faintly at her. "Don't worry about it. I don't think you need anything else to be worried about these days." Hermione looked at him questioningly. He continued, "You've been so distant. Constantly thinking about other things with a confused and anxious look on your face. I know you're worried about the war too, but I also know there's something else." He watched for a reaction, something to clue him in on what was happening inside his friend's head. She was looking away from him, the flames from the fire reflected in her eyes. Whatever was bothering her, it seemed pretty clear to Harry that she either didn't feel like telling him, or didn't know _how_ to tell him. "I'm not asking you to tell me," he said quietly, "But don't stress out over all your worries. What will come will come, for better or worse." He thought back on what he'd said and finished, "That may not be the most optimistic view, but you _can_ spend too much time thinking about something that hasn't even happened. Don't do that. It's not worth it."

Hermione smiled at him. "Thanks, Harry. I'll try to come back to earth more often."

Harry stood up and stretched. "Well, like you so _kindly_ pointed out, I desperately need sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Harry," said Hermione, watching him head up to his dormitory.


	5. Chapter 5

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 5**

The end of January flew by in a blur of increasing amounts of homework and seemingly constant snow. Every morning, the students entered the Great Hall to see snowflakes falling softly towards them from the enchanting ceiling, disappearing a few feet above their heads. At first it was enjoyable to watch, but when it happened every day, it lost any aesthetic wonder it once held.

Hermione woke up on the first Friday in February to once again see the gray sky and falling snowflakes out her window. She sighed, rolling out of bed and heading to the showers, thinking that if she managed to survive the morning, she'd have the whole afternoon off…. This thought cheered Hermione slightly as she went through her normal morning routine.

She walked down the steps from her dormitory to find Harry and Ron sitting and waiting for her as usual. "Morning, Harry, Ron," she said, smiling at them.

"Morning, Hermione," said Harry, getting up from his armchair.

Hermione suddenly noticed that Ron wasn't sitting waiting for her; he was asleep on the couch by the fireplace. "What's with him?" she asked Harry.

"Late night studying. He forgot about the Charms paper that's due today until last night."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"

Harry laughed. "His first class isn't for a while. Should we just leave him?"

Hermione shrugged. "Sure. I'll be up to get my books later; I'll just wake him up then."

Harry and Hermione climbed out of the common room and started towards the Great Hall. "You seem to be a little more relaxed recently. Not as much on your mind?" asked Harry, looking over at her.

Hermione thought about it. She _had_ been a bit more relaxed since she had talked to Harry that night after her detention. She guessed it was because she had taken his advice and stopped worrying about things that hadn't even happened. She suddenly realized she hadn't so much as run into Draco in over a week. Their paths just didn't cross that often. She supposed this was probably a good thing, all things considered, but she couldn't help feeling a little saddened by the fact they hadn't met in a while. Why did it matter to her, anyway? Did she miss him? Hermione mentally shook her head. She'd never wanted his company before…_but you'd never wanted to kiss him passionately before, either_, she reminded herself.

In response to Harry's question, she said, "Well, I took your advice seriously. I stopped worrying about little, insignificant things." _Is Draco insignificant?_ her inner voice asked. _Well, how am I supposed to know? I haven't spent that much time with him, _she replied to herself.

"Good," said Harry, smiling.

_STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM! _She yelled at herself, trying to bring her focus back to her conversation with Harry. "Speaking of relaxing, do you have any classes this afternoon? Professor Vector's sick, and Dumbledore couldn't get a substitute in time, so my later classes have been cancelled."

Harry looked suddenly gloomy. "I've got double divination. I don't know if I'll see you this evening; I may die of boredom."

Hermione laughed as they stepped down the last few steps into the Entrance Hall. _Ah well,_ she thought to herself, _I'll find _someway _to spend the afternoon_.

…

Draco woke up to find a small slip of parchment lying neatly at the foot of his bed. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, trying to wake himself up. The parchment was folded over and read _D. Malfoy_ on the outside. He unfolded it and read the note on the inside:

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_The History of Magic class trip into the village of Hogsmeade that was scheduled for today has been cancelled due to the unfortunate weather. Your last hour of the day is now free. History of Magic will resume on Monday, as usual._

Draco felt a tiny bit of happiness at the idea of having only one class after lunch before he was done for the week. He silently thanked the heavy snowfall out his window and went off to the showers.

…

Hermione walked Harry and Ron up to the divination classroom after lunch. "Have a good class! I'll see you later!" she called after them as they climbed the ladder into the dark classroom. She only got moodily mumbled replies in return.

Hermione slowly walked away, not entirely sure where she was going. She planned on spending some time in the common room on her Transfiguration homework, but even _she_ didn't like working for two hours on one project.

Unable to think of anything better to do, she headed back to Gryffindor tower, where she got her Transfiguration books and got to work. The flames crackled comfortingly in the fireplace, a polar opposite to the cold, snowy day outside. When Hermione found herself getting lost in daydreams every few paragraphs, she knew it was time to stop reading about changing books into birds and find something else to do. She dragged her books up to her dormitory and sat on her bed, staring out the window.

The snow was only falling lightly now; little flurries blew past her window every do often. The grounds glistened from the freshly fallen snow, and Hermione couldn't resist the temptation to pull on her cloak and take a walk outside.

She left her dormitory and climbed out of the empty common room through the portrait hole. She walked quickly over to a large wooden door nearby and pulled it open. It led down a cold and drafty spiral staircase to a small door out of the castle. Hermione pulled her scarf tighter around her neck as the wind whistled in through the cracks in the walls.

Surprisingly, when Hermione finally got outside, she found that it wasn't as bitingly cold as in the stairwell. She went towards the lake, pleased with the deep footprints she left behind in the otherwise spotless field of white. She wiped the snow off of a large rock near the lake and sat, allowing her mind to wander. She was staring off at nothing, thinking about nothing in particular, when--

"Hi, Granger," said a voice in her ear.

Hermione jumped about three feet in the air and whirled around to find Draco smirking at her, obviously pleased with himself. Hermione put her hand on her chest and struggled to calm down her heartbeat, saying, "Malfoy! Don't EVER do that again!"

Draco laughed. "I was just paying you back for startling me in the library." He shrugged, "Now we're square."

"Great." When she had completely recovered, she asked, "What are you doing out here anyway? Don't you have class?"

"No. Binns cancelled the trip to Hogsmeade. Why don't _you _have class?"

"Professor Vector's sick." She sat on the rock again and brushed some snow out of her hair.

Draco took a seat beside her. They stared out across the lake for a moment before Draco asked, "A bit cold for a stroll outside, isn't it?"

Hermione shrugged one shoulder. "I don't mind." She looked over at him, "If you don't like the cold, why did you decide to come out here?"

Draco gestured towards his broomstick, which was leaning up against a nearby tree. "I was practicing."

"In _this_?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Can't hurt to train in all conditions."

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "_Quidditch_."

Draco smiled, amused, "Not a fan of quidditch, are we, Granger?"

Hermione snorted. "Not really. Well…it's alright; I'm just not a sports person."

Draco nodded, not entirely surprised. They sat in silence for a while, staring out at the blur of snow, thinking aimlessly. The wind tugged a bit of Hermione's hair out of the loose ponytail she had it in and it blew into her face. She didn't bother to swipe it away, but Draco looked over at her, and, without thinking, reached over and tucked the hair behind her ear.

Hermione looked at him, slightly startled, but smiled. Draco still looked a little shocked at his own daring, but returned the smile nonetheless. The brisk wind whipped past them, and Hermione shivered against the cold. "Thinking about heading back?" asked Draco.

Hermione nodded and stood up, brushing the snow off her cloak. "Come with me?" she asked, noticing that Draco hadn't stood.

Draco stared out at the half-frozen surface of the lake. Unwanted thoughts were crossing his mind; thoughts including the person standing next to him. Something in the back of his mind was telling him to stop any kind of friendship that might develop between him and Hermione. "Granger, we…_I_…can't keep this up."

Hermione suddenly felt a knot form in her stomach. "Can't keep _what_ up, exactly?"

Draco swallowed and closed his eyes, as if he truly wished he didn't have to say what he was about to. He opened his eyes and turned to Hermione. "You're not stupid, Granger. You know very well that we haven't always acted friendly, or even _civil_, to each other. The war is coming. I think we both knew a closer relationship wouldn't last."

Hermione's throat went dry as she felt both sad realization and irritation come over her. "You're right, Malfoy;" she said, with a slight edge to her voice, "Deep down, I always _did_ know a closer relationship wasn't possible." She turned away and started towards the castle.

Draco felt a wave of annoyance wash over him. He stood up to catch up with her and block her path. "Listen, Granger. Don't act like this is all my fault. Compare our differences: I'm in Slytherin, you're in Gryffindor; I'm a pureblood, you're muggleborn; I was raised to support the Dark side, you're best friend is Potter. What are our similarities? What could _possibly_ make this work out?"

Hermione glared at him and felt tears forming in her eyes. She kept her voice steady as she said coldly, "I was willing to give you a chance. I thought you were willing to do the same for me." She stepped around him and started walking up to the castle, quickening her pace with every step.

Draco didn't follow her. There was nothing to say. Maybe it was easier this way; she didn't have to understand _why_ he had turned her away, just as long as he managed to do it. Draco had thought before that he was doing the right thing, but wasn't doing the right thing supposed to make you feel _better_…

…instead of worse?

…

By the time Hermione reached the entrance hall, she was running; putting much needed space between herself and Draco. The halls were still mostly empty; classes were in session for another few minutes. She sprinted up several of the changing staircases and finally slowed to a stop in a corridor on the third or fourth floor. She slid down the wall and put her head in her arms, fighting the angry tears that threatened to fall.

She wasn't really mad at Draco, though she wanted to believe that everything was his fault. In truth, she was mad at herself: mad that she hadn't turned him away on Christmas, mad that she had enjoyed their brief times together, mad that she _had_ given him a chance. If she had had any sense, she would've realized that whatever they had wasn't going to last. Hermione got frustrated with herself, knowing that she had known the whole time that it probably wouldn't work out. So why had she gone along with it? Why had she allowed herself to get closer to him?

The answer: she wanted it to work out.

Hermione stood up and fought off the urge to kick the wall in frustration. How could she have let this happen? She was _Hermione Granger_, logical under any circumstances--something she had always been proud of. Now, seeing how that her logic had disappeared in what had clearly been a hopeless scenario from the start, it made Hermione feel like a fool--a feeling that was strange to her.

She slowly headed up to Gryffindor tower, her mind focused on only one thing: forgetting about Draco.

…

_Hermione frowned and slowly opened her eyes, her thoughts still on the past. She remembered the frustration, the confusion, the anger. She hadn't been accustomed to these feelings then. At least, not as much as she now was._

_How much she had changed. They all had; everyone she knew from her days at Hogwarts was a changed person, almost undoubtedly. How could they not be? Life had been cruel to all of them at a very young age. _

_Hermione curled up against the cold wall and tried to drift off again. She didn't want to focus on the present; she wanted to relive her past; to escape from the recent horrors of her life to a time when they didn't yet matter._

…

Hermione and Draco were very careful to avoid each other over the following days. Neither felt they were prepared to be in the same room with each other, let alone speak.

Hermione did her best to act normally for Harry and Ron, but she could tell they knew something was wrong when they repeatedly asked her if she was okay. She always forced a smile and said she was fine, but she wasn't. She desperately wanted to go back to the way things were before; when she and her best friends were perfectly happy hating Draco Malfoy together; when she only thought of Draco because he had insulted her or done something horrible to someone else; when she felt free to talk to her friends about anything and everything. If she could go back to those easy days, she wouldn't even think about Draco, and she certainly wouldn't _miss_ him (a fact she was trying to deny to herself). But wishing to return to the past never got anyone anywhere, as Hermione knew, so she focused on her studies and anything else that could take her mind off _him_.

Draco had been fighting off a strong feeling of regret every time he caught a glimpse of Hermione in the halls or in the great hall. Being, after all, a Malfoy, he refused to believe he missed her company, but he couldn't help feeling suddenly very alone. His Slytherin "friends" were some of the stupidest people he had ever met, and Draco couldn't help feeling a sense of loss at the idea that he may never get to spend time with Hermione again, at least not with the semi-friendly relationship they had, up until recently, had. But Draco did his best to push these regretful thoughts out of his mind and live with the idea that whatever he had shared with Hermione was over.

Because they were in different houses, not seeing each other proved easier than expected. That is, until their houses had a joint Charms lesson one afternoon.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione came in about a minute late to find many members of the class already seated. Hermione noticed Draco and several other Slytherins sitting near the front and made sure she, Harry, and Ron sat in the back row.

Professor Flitwick stood on his usual stack of books at the front of the classroom and cleared his throat to get attention. "Good afternoon, students. Please pull out the essays you wrote on different charms and their developments." The students pulled out essays of varying lengths from their bags and set them on their desks. "Very good. You may remember that I assigned different charms to each of you? That was because I wanted each of you to know a lot about one particular charm so that it would be easier for you to do this next assignment.

"All of the charms that I gave you are related in some way to one of the charms studied by one of your classmates. For instance, Mr. Weasley had an anti-daydream charm that is similar in development to the dreamless sleep charm that was assigned to Ms. Patil. You two will work together to find all the connections between the two charms.

"Over the next week, you and your partners will be working together to find all the relationships between your two charms. You will not have class time to work on it, so I encourage you to work on it regularly after classes. The partners are as follows:" he picked a piece of parchment off of his desk and read it, "Ms. Patil and Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter and Ms. Brown, Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Finnegan, Ms. Bulstrode and Mr. Thomas, Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Goyle and Mr. Longbottom…"

Hermione lost the ability to hear after her name was called. Could she have possibly heard correctly? No, it couldn't be; her mind was clearly playing a cruel trick on her. No, she knew that wasn't it…. Hermione felt like someone had just hit her in the stomach. _She was working with Malfoy?_ No! Why? Why, why, _why_ was life being so horrible to her? What had she done to deserve this?

Across the room, Draco was having a similar reaction. For a moment, he sat completely still; paralyzed from shock. Professor Flitwick had just paired him with Granger? He couldn't believe it. Of all times, now? When, more than ever before, the two of them needed to be apart? Flitwick surely knew their history…why had he done this to them? Draco looked around the room and found that very few people were happy with their partners. Every student was either stone-faced or wearing a very forced smile. This was clearly one of those friendship-building projects teachers loved to torture students with.

Professor Flitwick continued on with the lesson after explaining that the partners would do presentations on their charms as well as papers describing the relationships between them. Hermione and Draco didn't hear any of what he said. Flitwick dismissed the class and still neither of them moved.

"Mr. Malfoy? Ms. Granger?" squeaked the Professor, "You are free to go."

Hermione was jerked from her trance to find that the room was almost completely empty; a few students were still leaving, but most were gone. She quickly stood up and threw her books into her bag and headed for the door. A moment before she got there, she noticed that Draco was still staring, transfixed, at the front of the room. He looked extremely dazed.

Hermione stepped over to him and brought him back to reality with a slight tap on the shoulder. He jumped, a little startled, and turned to face her. She cleared her throat and said, "We can start working on the project tomorrow. I'll see you in the library at seven thirty." She didn't bother asking if that was okay with him; she didn't care what he wanted. If she had to work with him, they were going to go by her rules.

She turned away and left the classroom without another word. Draco, realizing that class was over, quickly grabbed his bag and hurried out the door.


	6. Chapter 6

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 6**

Hermione glanced at her watch in annoyance. It was now seven forty the next day, and Hermione was tired of sitting in the library waiting for her tardy partner. What could possibly be keeping him? He _had_ heard her, hadn't he?

Draco appeared from around the corner and sat down across the table from Hermione. He caught her irritated look and asked, "What's with you?"

"You're ten minutes late."

Draco looked at his watch. Whoops. "I lost track of time."

Hermione didn't bother replying. Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out her charms paper. "Anyway, let's get started on this charms project. I was assigned the _Aperix_ conjuring charm. What was yours?"

Draco pulled a parchment out of his bag and looked at it. "The…_Niaperix_ vanishing charm. How convenient."

Hermione immediately stood up and headed towards the charms section. After a moment, Draco followed. Hermione seemed to know exactly where to look, so Draco didn't bother offering to help. Her fingers slid along the spines of many books as her eyes scanned each one for the title she wanted. She finally found one that might be useful and pulled it off the shelf and carelessly held it out to Draco to hold. He took it, and several others, before Hermione was satisfied. "That should do for now," she said, and headed back to their table.

Hermione sat down and picked up the topmost book on the pile Draco had just plopped on the table and started skimming the table of contents. Draco, figuring he ought to at least _act_ like he was helping, followed suit. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Hermione clearly engrossed in a chapter of her book and Draco with his eyes glazed over, staring at the page but not taking anything in.

"Hey, Granger, hate to break your concentration, but what exactly are we looking for?"

Hermione marked her spot with her finger and looked up at him as if he were the stupidest creature she'd ever laid eyes on. "What do you mean?"

"What am I supposed to be getting from this book, which, by the way, is one of the most boring things I've ever read?"

"Well," said Hermione, mock-patiently, "You may have heard Professor Flitwick say something about our charms papers yesterday? And about working in pairs to find relationships between the charms? That's why we're meeting here, see."

Draco gave her a sarcastic appreciative look. "Thanks for clearing that up for me. What would I do without you?" _Go crazy thinking about her all the time, _answered his mind unhelpfully.

Hermione smiled and went back to reading, saying, "Just look up your charm in the index of that book and see if it mentions how it developed, or who discovered it or something that might tie it to my charm."

Draco flipped to the back of his book and looked around for his vanishing charm in the index. They sat for over an hour, reading book after book of charms and finding little bits of information here and there that might help with their final paper and presentation. Without meaning to, Draco drifted off to sleep in his chair, reading a particularly dull chapter on people who had used conjuring charms instead of vanishing charms and made useless potions or something….

Hermione yawned and looked at her watch. It was nearly nine; they should start thinking about packing up. She looked across the table and opened her mouth to tell Draco but stopped, noticing that he was fast asleep. His book had slid to the end of his fingertips and was on the verge of falling to the floor. His head rested in a somewhat awkward position on his shoulder and he looked so _peaceful_.

At that moment even Hermione, who was furious at him, didn't think that he looked like the arrogant bastard he was. He certainly didn't look like the evil Death Eater he was probably being brought up to become. He looked nice, and handsome, and Hermione knew why she had trusted him before.

Hermione stood up and shook these thoughts out of her head, stepping over to him. She leaned over and took one last look at him before gently shaking his shoulder and waking him.

Draco felt someone touching his shoulder and opened his eyes, blinking and looking around in confusion. Hermione was standing over him with a sad/curious expression on her face. Draco looked into her eyes and wondered what she might be thinking at that moment…he had never understood her emotions, not that he had had much time to learn about them. Maybe it was his only semi-conscious state, but he suddenly wished more than anything that he could have another chance. Another chance at a relationship with Hermione, another chance at understanding her. "What are you thinking?" he asked quietly, startling her by speaking.

Hermione quickly looked away. "Nothing…why do you care?"

She had asked him this before. Last time he had said he _didn't_ care. He realized that his response had probably been a lie then and would certainly be one now. "I'm not sure why, but I do." He was being completely honest with her--something he hardly ever did with anyone.

Hermione felt a war of conflicting feelings inside her. She hated Draco for being like this; acting like he actually cared about what she thought and doing it so well that she believed him. She had hated him for turning her away, but felt even angrier that he was still being nice to her. She wanted desperately to forget about him, and he was making it so difficult! "Why are you doing this to me, Malfoy?" she asked helplessly, "A closer relationship isn't possible for us--you said it yourself. So why are you making this more complicated than it needs to be?"

Hermione looked so lost and confused that Draco couldn't help feeling intensely guilty. He didn't want to make things more complicated for them. He wanted to give their friendship another try, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this would all end badly. The war could start tomorrow, and then what would happen? Draco would be forced to meet his father and fight for the Dark side _against_ Hermione and most of the other students at Hogwarts. What was the point?

As Draco was battling with himself inside his head, Hermione was desperately trying to fight off tears. She felt so fragile that it made her angry, but she couldn't help feeling sadly torn. She knew there was probably no point in becoming close right before the war, but she wanted to try anyway. Something about being with Draco, something she couldn't explain, made her happy, and she didn't want to lose that in these depressing times.

An unbidden tear rolled down her cheek, and Draco reached up and brushed it away. "Can you give me another chance?" he asked softly, lifting her gaze from the floor to his eyes. He didn't know why he was willing to take this chance for someone who, until a little over a month ago, he had hated more than anyone…besides Potter, that is.

Hermione looked deeply into his misty grey eyes to see if he meant it. Could she trust him? Why should she? But Hermione's own desire to be with Draco determined her conclusion: she smiled and impulsively threw her arms around him in a tight embrace.

Draco stiffened for a second, not used to sudden displays of affection. But he relaxed and pulled her to him, relief washing over him at the fact that she was forgiving him. She pulled away from the hug to face Draco and he gave her a brief, grateful kiss. Hermione looked at him thoughtfully for moment. "What is it about you that I like so much?" she wondered aloud.

Draco narrowed his eyes mock-suspiciously, "Should I take offense at that question?"

Hermione smiled, "No. Take it as a compliment that you have at least one redeeming quality."

"Ouch, Granger. That hurts, it really does."

Hermione laughed, "Sorry. I'll make it up to you." She closed the short distance between them and caught him in a kiss that quickly became passionate. Each of them was seemingly pouring all their feelings into this one kiss, relieved and inexplicably happy just to be in each other's arms once more. It didn't matter at that moment how it had happened so quickly or where it was going to go; at that moment, everything was just as it should be.

…

Hermione felt a good deal happier over the course of the next few days, a fact that didn't go unnoticed. She continued meeting with Draco in the library in the evenings to do some research, but, to be honest, little research got done. In fact, the two spent most of their time talking. Mostly about random unimportant things, but several times more serious conversations, usually dealing with the war, came up. As it turned out, Draco was more intelligent than Hermione had ever given him credit for, and Hermione found herself thoroughly enjoying talking with him.

Though she was pleased with all this, there was still something bothering Hermione in the back of her mind. It wasn't about Draco; it was Harry that she was worried about. The professors all suddenly seemed to be very watchful of Harry; making sure he was okay every so often, talking to him in the corridors…. It seemed strange.

Harry himself was looking worse and worse by the day. He always looked exhausted and didn't talk to Ron or Hermione much at meals. His grades were steadily declining, probably because he was too tired to study properly. Hermione tried to talk to him several times, but he just said he couldn't sleep, or would make up some excuse about homework to get out of talking to her.

Ron seemed to notice Harry's strange behavior as well, and was doing his best to cheer Harry up. He often asked Harry if he wanted to play a game of wizard chess or practice quidditch, but Harry made up excuses for Ron, too. Hermione was starting to get very worried about her friend, and considered talking to him, but to her surprise, it was Harry that approached _her_ one afternoon in the common room.

She had been reading a charms book on the sofa when Harry sat down next to her. He rested his head against the back of the sofa and looked as though he would happily drift off to sleep right there, but he didn't; he looked over at Hermione and asked, "How's the charms paper been coming along?"

Hermione, startled but pleased at having Harry talk to her, replied, "It's been fine."

"I'm sorry you got stuck with Malfoy," said Harry, and Hermione thought she could hear the barest trace of a question in his voice. Perhaps it was her imagination.

"Oh, well…it hasn't been that bad, actually. Not as horrible as you might think…," she said, looking away from him.

"Oh?" asked Harry, raising his eyebrows, but Hermione could have sworn he didn't seem that surprised by her answer. Was she being paranoid? Did Harry really know anything about her and Draco? How could he? Her heart started to beat a little more quickly as these thoughts crossed her mind. _Calm down!_ she screamed at herself, _he doesn't know anything. How could he?_

She relaxed a little and said, "We don't talk much," she lied, "just research, so it's not too terrible."

Harry looked into her eyes for a moment and then closed his own, still leaning his head against the back of the sofa in tiredness. "That's good. I'm glad he's not providing too much of a problem for you."

Hermione looked down at her hands guiltily. She felt that she ought to tell him the truth, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Harry rarely talked to her as it was, how would it be if there was yet another wall between them? Hermione couldn't make Harry even more miserable than he currently was; it would be too heartless.

She did, however, want to talk to him now that he seemed at least slightly willing. "How have things been for you, Harry?" she asked.

Harry sighed and opened his eyes. "Fine. I've been a bit tired lately, but for the most part, everything's fine."

So he didn't want to tell her. Hermione felt a wave of sadness wash over her. Her best friend was in the worst condition he'd ever been in, and he didn't even want to tell her why. "You can tell me, Harry," she said quietly, "_please_ tell me."

Harry didn't say anything for a while. Hermione was on the verge of giving up when he said, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I know I haven't been acting normally lately. And in fact, everything is far from fine." He sat up and turned to face her. "I went to Dumbledore last week. I had to tell him about the things I was seeing every night in my dreams, the ones I told you about a while ago. He was pretty worried, but he didn't tell me much about what these visions--or whatever they are--meant. He said to tell him about anything else I saw, and I think he's been having the Professors follow me around and ask me how I'm doing every once and a while. Or, at least, he's told them about my dreams, and they've just been checking on me.

"I know they're just trying to help me through this, but I kind of wish they wouldn't. I'm having enough trouble without them reminding me of how tired and depressed I look all the time." He paused, shifting positions and running his hand through his unruly hair.

Hermione hung on his every word as he spoke. This was the most Harry had said to her in ages, and she wasn't about to interrupt him or stop listening. He continued, "I know the war will be here soon, and I just can't find it in myself to _care_ about things like grades or other small things…I mean, I know school is important, but how can I possibly put much effort into studying when I see what's happening everywhere or what _will _happen whenever I try to sleep. I'm just making myself more miserable, but I can't stop thinking about what I see." He shook his head and looked down, seemingly slightly relieved now that he had told someone what was going through his head.

"The tension leading up to the war is increasing steadily, and has been since the start of the year;" he continued quietly, "Everyone on both sides is growing more and more anxious every day. I get the feeling that any little conflict could spark the beginning of the war." He paused, looking off at nothing in particular, and then said, mainly to himself, "It could start anytime…."

Hermione tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She put her hand on Harry's shoulder, trying gently to comfort him. There was nothing she could say, though she had wanted to speak with him for days. She felt that nothing she said could possibly make things any better or easier to bear for her friend. So they sat in silence, knowing that nothing was said because there was nothing optimistic to say.

…

Hermione sat in charms class one afternoon with her eyelids drooping slightly and her head propped lazily on one hand. Normally she found charms class to be interesting, often enjoyable, but today it was by far her most boring lesson. Professor Flitwick was sick, and in his place was a stern, older professor named Burrell. Mr. Burrell was probably a nice person, but his droning voice had the entire class in a sleepy daze.

Hermione was staring off into space, thinking of nothing in particular, when she saw a crumpled piece of parchment land on her desk. Startled, she sat up and looked around, both to see who had thrown it and if anyone else had noticed. To her right, Ron was fast asleep with his head in his arms on his desk. To her left, Harry was staring at the blackboard, his eyes out of focus and his glasses slightly askew from the way he was leaning his head on his hand. Nobody seemed to have noticed the flying bit of parchment, and few looked like they currently had the energy to throw something.

As her eyes scanned the row in front of her, Hermione's gaze rested on Draco, who was slouched lazily in his chair, and was spinning his quill distractedly in his hands. He turned his head slightly and winked in Hermione's direction, a small smirk on his features.

Hermione quietly unfolded the parchment and read the brief note written inside:

_I have never been this bored in my entire life, History of Magic classes included. I'm going insane._

Hermione scribbled back:

_Even _I_ have to agree. I never thought a class at Hogwarts could put me to sleep, but Professor Burrell has almost managed it. Even so, passing notes is worthy of detention. We wouldn't want that now, would we?_

Hermione cautiously looked from Harry to Ron, but neither seemed to be completely conscious, so she risked tossing the note back to Draco. It landed neatly in the center of his desk, and Hermione smiled and returned her gaze to the front of the classroom.

It wasn't long before Hermione was once again unfolding the bit of parchment under the cover of her desk. In addition to the previous messages, it now said:

_Well, I don't know, detention wasn't too terrible last time…. All the same, I'd hate to have my very important life at risk again cleaning up a couple of little kids' mess._

Hermione fought off the urge to laugh. She briefly wondered how Malfoy's arrogance had gone from irritating to amusing in the short span of a couple months, but then proceeded to write a reply.

The note-passing continued without notice for the remainder of the lesson. Mr. Burrell was obviously far more interested in his words than the students were, so he didn't even realize that two students were constantly throwing notes to each other in the back of the room, let alone the fact that half of his students were asleep.

Hermione glanced at her watch as she once again dipped her quill into the ink sitting on the corner of her desk. There was little more than a minute left of class, so she hastily wrote:

_Can you be in the library at seven again tonight?_

Then tossed the message-covered parchment back to Draco. She saw him opening it, but then Mr. Burrell announced loudly to the class that they were dismissed.

Many of the students were jerked out of their sleepy trances and more than a few looked as though they had just woken up. Hermione waited at the door as Harry and Ron slowly gathered their things and stretched.

Draco was one of the last to leave. He barely glanced in Harry and Ron's direction before whispering, "See you at seven," into Hermione's ear and giving her a brief kiss on the cheek as he passed her.

Hermione, more than a little surprised at Draco's daring, quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Fortunately, most of the students were still off in their own little worlds, not having fully revived. Harry and Ron didn't seem to have noticed, for which Hermione was very grateful.

It wasn't that she wasn't _ever_ going to tell her two best friends about Draco, it was just that she'd rather tell them herself, preferably when they were both in a good mood. She would tell them _eventually_…

…just not now.

…

Draco walked to their usual studying table in the library around seven that night to find Hermione already at work with several open books on the table before her. He smiled and watched as she eagerly jotted down anything she thought might be useful for their project.

"Feel free to sit down and get to work," she said without looking up, making Draco jump. He plopped down in the chair across from her, but didn't bother picking up a book. Hermione finally wrenched her eyes from the page and looked up at him with a small smile. Glancing at her watch, she noted, "You're on time today. Is something wrong?"

"There's a first time for everything. I'm still waiting for the day I get here before you," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"Don't get your hopes up. Oh, and while we're talking about 'first times for everything' here's a book," she tossed a medium-sized book on charms across the table, "try researching."

Draco glared at her and reached for the book. He was lazily flipping through a chapter that Hermione had marked with a small note card when he heard a sharp tapping sound behind him. Looking around the back of his chair, Draco saw that a large grey owl was scratching at the window with a letter tied neatly to its leg. He closed the book and stood up to open the window.

The owl hooted and landed gracefully on the book Draco had just set on the table, startling Hermione, who jumped and looked up from her book once again. Draco closed the window and walked back to the table, noticing with some apprehension that the owl was his father's.

The owl looked up at Draco and stuck out its leg. Draco untied the letter and the beautiful bird flew up to rest on his shoulder. The Malfoy crest was clearly imprinted in green wax on the back side of the envelope, and Draco hesitated briefly before sliding a finger under it and pulling out the letter.

_Draco,_

_It will begin within the next two weeks. Of this I am certain, so stay alert. I've told you the school will no doubt be evacuated, but by the time that has started, you will have already left. I will owl you again when the time comes. _

_Be ready to leave at any moment, and do not tell anyone that you plan to leave before the other students. I hope that in the panic following the news of the war's arrival, your absence will go unnoticed. Watch for my next owl, and be prepared._

"Who's it from?" asked Hermione, though she was almost certain she knew.

Draco scowled and tossed the letter to her. As she started reading, he said, "My father has only one thing on his mind these days, so his most recent letters have told me the same things over and over again: _be alert, be prepared, wait for my instructions…_" He stood and walked back to the window, petting the owl on his shoulder. When the bird had flown off into the night once more, Draco returned to his seat, waiting for Hermione's reaction to the letter.

Hermione read the letter several times, trying but failing to ignore the sudden knot she felt in her stomach. The war was going to start _within the next two weeks_? How could that be? Hermione was having trouble understanding that in less than fifteen days, she, along with the rest of the students and teachers at Hogwarts, would be gone…many of them fighting in the war.

Aside from this terrifying realization was another thing for her to worry about: she and Draco would be split up in a very short amount of time, and, from what she could tell from the letter, he would be fighting on the opposite side. She looked up quickly from the letter, seeing Draco with his head in his hands across from her.

"What are you going to do?" she asked him, almost inaudibly.

Draco looked up at her. She looked very worried and in her eyes, Draco was certain he saw some fear. "What do you mean?" he asked, though he knew exactly what she meant.

"Exactly what I said: _What are you going to do?_" she repeated, staring fixedly into his eyes.

Draco took his time responding, becoming very interested in the lettering on the cover of the book in front of him. He had thought about his dilemma almost constantly for over a month, but hadn't yet come to a real conclusion. The fact was, as much as he tried to convince himself to turn against his father and the Dark side, it would almost certainly mean death on his part, something he was not particularly eager for. However, if he obeyed his father and fought for the Dark Lord, it would be the end of his relationship with Hermione, he would be fighting under many people he hated with a passion, and death would obviously still be a possibility.

He finally tried to put his thoughts into words, "I…I can't say for sure," he said, not looking at her, "I've thought about it more than you can imagine, but the choice isn't any more clear than it was before." He paused, not sure of what to say. He hated feeling so unsure about something, and confessing to Hermione that he had no idea what to do was not easy for him. "As you can see, my father has everything planned out for me. As far as he's concerned, I don't _have_ a decision to make…"

Hermione sensed that he had something more to say and pressed, "But…"

"But I hate the Dark Lord and what he stands for," Draco finished. He expertly crumpled up his father's letter and tossed it into a nearby dustbin.

Hermione found herself suddenly more hopeful after Draco spoke. He clearly felt no loyalty towards the Dark side, so maybe he didn't have to fight for them, maybe the start of the war wouldn't mean they would be split up for the rest of their lives…. "You don't have to fight for them," she said, "you could ignore your father's owl and leave the school with the rest of the students, you could…" she faltered at the look on Draco's face, realizing that she was being stupid. _Of course,_ she thought to herself angrily, _Lucius would never allow that, and neither would Voldemort. _"What would your father do if you chose the other side?" she asked worriedly, watching Draco closely.

Draco laughed mirthlessly and fiddled distractedly with a loose thread in his sleeve. "If I did that, I would be seen as a traitor, both to my family and the Dark side. My father, ironic though it may seem, has a particular hatred for traitors. He thinks himself a more faithful servant to the Dark Lord than most. I think he'd do anything to please the Dark Lord."

When Draco paused, Hermione asked, "In your case, what would 'anything' be?"

Draco looked at her, "You know my father isn't above killing, Granger. When I said 'anything,' I meant it."

Hermione stared at him, horrified. She knew Lucius wasn't afraid to murder, but his own son? Surely even _he_ wasn't as evil as that. But the more she thought about it, the less strange it seemed. It was common knowledge that Lucius Malfoy was not the most stable person, and that he could turn nearly insane when angered. His devotion to the Dark Lord was clear, and his selfishness had been evident to Hermione since she had first heard of him. "But what if he never found you? You could be protected, Dumbledore could help…" her hopeful voice trailed off as Draco shook his head.

"Dumbledore will have enough to do without worrying about me. And besides, switching sides would be completely pointless if just ran and hid until a death eater found me." He stood and started pacing slowly.

Hermione wasn't about to give up, "But you could _try_. Lucius will probably be so focused on the war that he won't have time to track you down. Chances are he won't even try; he'll just--"

"_Chance?_ Do you realize that I only have one shot at this, Granger?" Draco was half-yelling now, frustrated that she didn't understand, that he still didn't know what to do, "This is my _life_ you're gambling. I know my father; he's obsessive, he can be fucking _crazy_, and he is not just going to let me get away with this!" He slumped back into his chair and let out a deep breath.

After a pause, he said quietly, "I'm sorry; it's not you, I've just--"

"It's okay," Hermione interrupted him, getting up from her chair and sitting on the table in front of him, "I know it's not easy, and I wish I could give you a good solution, but…" She stopped, looking down and trying to blink back the tears that were forming in her eyes. "I think," she said shakily, "I think we both know what you have to do. You may not believe in the Dark side, but what good could come if you died, even if it was for our side?" A tear rolled down her cheek, and Hermione put little effort into stopping it, or the ones that followed.

Draco heard what she said and looked up at her in confusion. Did she just tell him to do what his father was asking him to? To fight _against_ her, and for the Dark Lord? "But…"

Hermione put her finger to his lips, quieting him. "You can't die, Draco," she said as steadily as she could, "even if you have to fight for Voldemort to avoid it." She wrapped her arms around his neck and cried quietly into his shoulder, wanting him to understand how much she couldn't bear the idea of his death, so much so that she was pushing him to do this.

Draco returned her embrace, slowly realizing the incredible amount of emotion behind Hermione's words. Voldemort was undoubtedly the one person she hated most in the world, yet she was asking Draco to fight for him…that was how much she wanted Draco to live.

If this had happened as little as a week earlier, Draco would have been scared out of his mind at Hermione's clearly strong feelings for him. That was not what he felt now, but he couldn't put his finger on what he _did_ feel. At any rate, he didn't put too much thought into it then; he just held Hermione close and silently thanked her.

…

**Author's Note: **I realize that after the release of The Half-Blood Prince, my story is a bit…outdated. I'm afraid it's impossible for me to make this story fit in with the developments of the new book, but I hope that you'll all continue to read it anyway. Many thanks to reviewers!


	7. Chapter 7

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 7**

A few days later, Draco tapped Hermione on the shoulder while she was eating lunch in the Great Hall. She turned around and smiled when she saw him. Harry and Ron glared at him with intense dislike, but Draco had learned to ignore this.

"I need to talk to you about the charms assignment, Granger," said Draco.

"Alright," Hermione gathered her things, apologizing to Harry and Ron and telling them that she would see them in class.

Careful to walk several feet from each other, Draco and Hermione left the Great Hall. They walked around a corner leading to a small hallway and Draco immediately pulled Hermione into an intense kiss. It had been all of about twenty-four hours since they had last been in a similar position, but that was too long in both of their opinions. Draco had Hermione up against a small wooden door that led to a classroom, which suddenly swung open due to a faulty latch. Hermione shrieked as they toppled into the classroom, but they both laughed after their initial shock was over and they realized what had happened.

Draco rolled off of Hermione and sat up facing her. Hermione propped herself up on her elbows and raised an eyebrow at him, "So is their actually anything you need to ask about the charms assignment, or was that your excuse to get me out here?"

Draco looked thoughtful. "I have to admit, I had no intention of asking you anything about the charms assignment, but now that you mention it, when's our presentation?"

"_Today_, Draco."

"Right…" Draco didn't seem too worried about it, but then asked, "Wasn't there a paper due or something, too?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, and it's done. No thanks to _you_, I might add."

Draco looked at her as if she were hardly doing him justice. "I spent just as much time in the library as you did, Granger. I even put some effort into reading those horrifically boring charms books. How much can you ask for?" He stood and pulled Hermione to her feet.

"You really are unbelievably hopeless sometimes," said Hermione pityingly.

Draco shrugged, "I do my best."

Hermione smiled and shook her head. She found it amazing that she had done almost all the work on this project, and yet she still felt no anger towards Draco for being so lazy. If they had been in a similar situation as little as three months ago, she would have tried to get him expelled out of pure frustration…but that was then.

"So what exactly do you plan on saying during our presentation?" she asked, crossing her arms and looking at him skeptically.

Draco thought for a moment, "Well, something along the lines of…The discoverer of both the _niaperix_ and _aperix _charms was Helena Goldwick, a healer who lived in the 500's b.c.e. She was brewing a simple potion for wart removal and misspoke a charm, only to discover that all the ingredients she needed for the potion were suddenly before her. This was the _aperix_ charm, though it wasn't widely used until the first century b.c.e., long after Goldwick's death. The _niaperix_ charm she tried after discovering the first one, hoping that a reverse spell would also be possible. She was right; she found that she could make objects vanish into thin air as well as instantly summoning them. Both charms are commonly used in modern witchcraft."

Hermione found herself staring at Draco in shock, her mouth hanging slightly open. Draco smiled, clearly pleased with himself. "How…but…" Hermione found herself speaking nonsense in her wonder.

"And _you_ thought I wasn't paying attention all that time in the library," said Draco, shaking his head and tsking at her.

Hermione couldn't help but stare at him in awe. She had spent all that time studying in the library, and was still pretty certain she couldn't rattle off all that information without notes or at least _rehearsing_. "Are you _kidding_ me?" she asked, pushing him in the chest mock-angrily, "I spent hours writing that paper and all this time, you actually _knew_ something about this subject?"

Draco feigned offense, "Hey, that was your own mistake. I'm really a more capable human being than you ever gave me credit for."

"So you are," said Hermione, standing on her toes and covering Draco's mouth with her own. Draco pulled her into him, sliding an arm around her waist. She wrapped both arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. It was then that her watch decided to beep loudly twice.

Hermione pulled out of the kiss and looked up at her watch. "_Damnit!_" she swore uncharacteristically, grabbing Draco's wrist and pulling him out of the classroom as quickly as she could.

Draco followed Hermione out of the room and asked confusedly, "What the hell was that? Where are we going?"

As Hermione sprinted up a staircase, she quickly replied, "That was a tardy alarm I charmed my watch to make; we're ten minutes late for charms!" She was horrified at the idea of being even a little late on a normal basis, and the fact that she was supposed to be presenting _at that moment_ was not helping her panic.

Draco didn't go frantic at this news, as Hermione had, but tagged behind her anyway. "What? Never been late to a class before, Granger?" he asked with a slight smirk.

"Not often, no," Hermione replied, dragging him around a corner at top speed.

'Why am I not sur--"

Hermione suddenly came to complete stop outside the charms classroom and covered Draco's mouth with her hand. She paused a second to catch her breath, then released Draco's wrist and gestured for him to follow her inside. They snuck into the back row virtually unnoticed, taking seats in a corner close to the door.

Professor Flitwick turned from the blackboard and noticed their sudden presence. "Well, thank you for joining us, Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy. Do you have an excuse for being so tardy?"

"We were doing some last-minute preparation for our presentation," answered Hermione promptly.

"Oh, I see. Well, are you two ready to present, then?" squeaked Flitwick, marking something on an attendance sheet on his desk.

"Yes, I think so, Sir," said Hermione, and Draco snapped his head around to look at her. They had done absolutely nothing to prepare for this. Well, at least Draco hadn't.

"Excellent," said Flitwick, "please come up to the front of the class and start when you are ready."

Hermione nodded and reached down to her bag to collect her notes. Draco followed suit, pretending to search his own bag for his own fictitious ones. "What are you doing? We're not ready to present!" he whispered.

"Wrong," said Hermione, handing Draco a fair-sized stack of note cards, "read off one of these cards whenever I stop talking."

Draco looked down at the stack in his hand. Hermione was far too organized for her own good, but he wasn't about to complain now; she had just saved him from failing this class. Hermione stood and walked to the front of the classroom with Draco following several steps behind her.

Unbelievably enough, the presentation went extremely well. Though Draco did not know half of the stuff he told the class before he was speaking before them, his sentences came off practiced and thoroughly researched. He and Hermione traded off speaking near-perfectly; the one mess-up being once when they had started speaking at the same time. Hermione had glared at Draco, but he shrugged and the class laughed it off.

"Wonderful job, you two," said Professor Flitwick, resuming his place at the front of the classroom when it was over, "this just might make up for your tardiness today."

Hermione and Draco showed their appreciation by walking sulkily back to their desks at the back of the room. "Not bad, Malfoy," Hermione whispered in Draco's ear when their Professor started his lecture for the day, "but you seriously owe me." She smiled and leaned back to her own desk, pulling out her notebook and innocently taking notes on everything Flitwick said.

…

The following Friday, Hermione sat with her legs beneath her on a sofa in the common room. She was reading the last pages of a novel she'd started only earlier that week, and was extremely eager to know the ending. Harry was sleeping at the other end of the sofa, his head resting lazily on the cushioned back. Ron sat at a nearby table, trying desperately to figure out an astronomy chart that Professor Trelawny had given him as punishment for drifting off in her class. Hermione didn't really blame him; Trelawny's class was undeniably boring most of the time, but he did seem to get into trouble with her on a regular basis.

For the most part, the common room was still and quiet, the atmosphere lazy. Hermione turned a page, her eyes racing across the words at an amazing rate. She didn't even pause when she heard a scratching sound at the window. She continued reading, but had to look up when the scratching continued, deeply irritating her.

She looked out the window and saw a small, gray owl hovering outside. She glanced at her watch. It was nearly ten; why didn't the owl just wait until the following morning to deliver the letter? She got up and let the bird in. It hooted gratefully and landed on the table in front of her, sticking its leg out expectantly.

Hermione frowned; she wasn't expecting a letter anytime soon. At any rate, she untied the small parchment and watched the owl fly out into the dark, overcast night. She unrolled the parchment and smiled at the familiar handwriting:

_It's time my debt was repaid. Meet me in the tower._

Hermione quickly rolled it up again and placed it in her pocket. She glanced over at Harry, who was still sleeping soundly, then over at Ron, who was still absorbed in his chart. She stepped over to him, "I left a book outside the library," she lied, the guilt already twisting a knot in her abdomen. "I'm just going to go get it. See you later."

Ron grunted at her, far too busy with his homework to listen. She crawled out through the portrait hole and started her cautious journey over to the tower. She got there without much incident, having to hide behind a suit of armor only once, when Snape suddenly appeared from around a corner. He didn't notice her, and she continued as quietly as possible.

Eventually, she reached the tapestry. She pulled out her wand and looked around quickly before tapping it three times against the ancient decoration. It, as usual, rolled itself up and Hermione ascended the steps, her wand lighting the way.

The top of the tower was darker than usual, due to the lack of natural star- and moonlight. Standing across the room was Draco, who leaned casually against the stone wall, clearly waiting for her.

"Tardy, tardy, Granger," he said, examining his watch, "I was beginning to think you'd never show up."

"I was held up," said Hermione defensively, lowering her lit wand, "I nearly collided with Snape on the way up here."

Draco gave a sharp intake of breath. "That would not have been good," he commented, stepping over to her.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, "I think that's an understatement." Draco laughed and she smiled. "Anyway…you mentioned repaying your debt…how exactly do you plan to do that?"

Draco smirked mischievously and said quietly, "Put out your wand and close your eyes." Hermione looked up at him curiously, but did as she was told. Draco stepped even closer, so that their faces were less than an inch apart. Hermione could feel his light breathing on her cheek and neck and she shivered involuntarily. Draco slowly pressed his lips to hers, initiating a very gentle but somehow very intense kiss. Hermione responded by opening her mouth and allowing him to deepen it.

It seemed as though time was passing at a slower rate; nothing the two of them did was rushed or frantic. Draco slowly undid the buttons on Hermione's uniform blouse and she didn't stop him. To the contrary, she found the bottom of Draco's shirt and pulled it off over his head, interrupting their kiss for only a second. Her blouse slipped off her shoulders and she shivered slightly against the sudden cold on her bare skin. Draco noticed and pulled away just long enough to make a blanket appear out of thin air and wrap it around Hermione's shoulders.

She whispered her thanks into his ear and commented, "Nice conjuring charm," with a small smile.

"I've done my research," he replied, trailing kisses down her neck to her shoulder. He pulled her down to the floor with him, careful that the large blanket was always between them and the cold stone.

The dark night and the quiet castle offered no disturbances. What would normally be an eerie silence now seemed a peaceful escape. Time slipped by without interruption, for which a certain two people would be eternally grateful.

…

Hermione awoke to what was mostly a grim and overcast morning, with the slight exception of a small ray of sunlight streaming through the gray clouds and the old windows of the tower. Draco's arm was around her waist and she felt his deep breaths softly on the back of her neck. Despite the coldness of the drafty tower, Hermione felt very warm and comfortable under the protection of the blanket Draco had conjured the previous night.

Perfectly content with the idea of staying where she was forever, Hermione looked out through the windows, watching as the sun disappeared and reappeared every so often. The clouds eventually won out over the sun and before long, rain splashed against the glass in a very soothing kind of rhythm. Hermione sighed and rolled over, seeing Draco sleeping peacefully beside her.

Hermione knew what she felt for Draco, but was no longer scared of it. No matter what happened with the war, whether or not the end of what they had shared would soon come, Hermione was certain that she would never regret the night before. She didn't bother dwelling on their parting, or when it would be, and drifted off once more in their temporary haven from the rest of the world and reality itself.

…

Draco stirred a little at the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance. He forced his eyes open and looked at his surroundings for a moment, confused. Realization hit when he saw the sleeping form of Hermione before him. Her face was half-covered by her curly hair and for once her pretty face held no signs of worry or frustration. Draco reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She slept on without noticing.

Draco sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He shivered at the brisk air and pulled his shirt on over his head. He got up and finished dressing, taking a moment to look at the storm outside. It was a somewhat cool experience; despite the cold of the tower, Draco felt nice and comfortable as he gazed at the chilly wetness on the other side of the window.

Draco glanced at his watch, wondering how long they'd been there. His eyes widened in surprise and he swore loudly. It was nearly two o'clock in the afternoon! He'd never slept so long in his entire life! Not that he actually knew how long they'd stayed up, but still…

Draco crept back over to Hermione and shook her shoulder gently. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up, startled, but smiled when she saw him. "I've got to go," he whispered, "Quidditch practice starts in about three minutes." He looked doubtfully out the window, "It's probably been cancelled, but if not, the team will have my head."

Hermione sleepily nodded her understanding and sat up. Draco kissed her on the cheek and stood, grabbing his cloak and leaving. Hermione watched him go and left a few minutes later, knowing that Harry and Ron were probably worried about her.


	8. Chapter 8

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 8**

"HERMIONE!" cried Ron as soon as Hermione stepped foot in the common room, "Where have you been? Harry and I were looking for you; no one's seen you since last night!"

Hermione quickly scrambled to find an appropriate excuse. "I was…er…looking for a book in the library and then I just fell asleep in one of the chairs down there." It was a lame excuse, but hey, it had been known to happen.

"But we looked in the library!"

"Right, well…I woke up earlier and decided to take a walk outside for a while."

"In the _rain_?"

"Well, it wasn't raining when I got out there!" said Hermione in defense of her terrible lie, "And anyway, a simple drying charm did the trick."

Normally, no one would have believed this, but Ron seemed too preoccupied to really care that much. "Oh," he said, sitting in an armchair, "fine. Just tell us next time, will you? Harry was getting all upset. Mind you, nowadays he's always getting upset."

The familiar feeling of guilt settled itself in Hermione's stomach as she thought about poor Harry spending his whole morning worrying about her. Like he needed that, on top of everything else. "Where is Harry?" she asked, noticing that he wasn't in the common room.

"Dumbledore sent for him; he left a few minutes ago."

"Oh," said Hermione, sitting in a chair across from Ron. "Anyway, sorry you spent your whole morning looking for me."

Ron shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal. We asked a couple of people if they'd seen you, stuff like that. Apparently Malfoy went missing last night, too; the Slytherin team captain asked if we'd kidnapped him. Ah well, can't say I'm all broken up about it. He'll probably turn up eventually, if he hasn't already. Was he in the library?"

"No," said Hermione quickly.

"Mmm," said Ron uninterestedly, fiddling with a quill he'd just found on the table next to him. "Well, I've got that transfiguration homework to do. I hope I can finish it today; tomorrow's supposed to be a great day."

Hermione looked out the window doubtfully. "Is it?"

Ron's smile faltered as he followed her gaze. "One can always hope," he said, standing to fetch his homework.

"True," said Hermione thoughtfully, eyes still fixed on the rain-covered window.

…

Harry didn't return from Dumbledore's office, so Ron and Hermione went down to dinner without him. Even when they had finished, Harry still wasn't in the common room. Hermione had noticed that Dumbledore had not been at dinner either, something that surprised her. She couldn't remember the last time the headmaster hadn't shown up for dinner, except for that period during their fifth year when he had left and Umbridge had taken over.

Hermione suggested they sit up and wait for Harry, and Ron agreed but soon fell asleep in his chair. Hermione thought she, too, probably would have been fast asleep if she hadn't slept through most of the morning. The common room slowly emptied as students gave up on their homework, said goodnight to their friends, and went to bed. Hermione had already finished her book and so started on her Arithmancy homework.

Around midnight, Hermione heard the portrait hole open behind her. Everyone besides her and Ron were up in the dormitories, so she turned around, hoping to see Harry. Instead of Harry, she saw a very grim-looking Professor McGonagall.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Waiting for Mr. Potter, I suppose?" the professor asked, a sad expression on her face.

Hermione nodded. "We haven't seen him all evening, so Ron and I thought we'd wait for him." She began to worry about why McGonagall looked to gloomy and asked, "Is everything alright?"

Professor McGonagall looked as though she was the verge of tears as she shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Ms. Granger." She stepped over to where Hermione and Ron were sitting and said, very quietly, as though the softer she said it, the less terrible it would seem, "The war has begun."

Hermione gasped audibly and stared at her professor in horror. _It's started?_ her mind asked in shock. Hermione laughed mirthlessly at her own surprise. Hadn't she known this was going to happen? Hadn't she been expecting it since Christmas? So why the amazement that it had finally begun? Hermione imagined it was because anything as terrible as this was bound to startle anyone, especially when it meant that her life was going to take a drastic turn, probably for the worse, very soon.

Hermione fought off the panic that was attempting to control her and asked, "But what about Harry? Does he know? Is he okay?"

McGonagall placed a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder. "He's fine, Ms. Granger. But he will be leaving with the Headmaster shortly. I was asked to fetch you and Mr. Weasley to…say goodbye."

Hermione nodded solemnly and stood, walking to where Ron sat. "Ron," she whispered, shaking his shoulder, "_Ron!_ Wake up."

Ron groaned and opened his eyes. "What's happening?" he asked groggily.

Hermione didn't have the strength to do anything but get to the point. "The war's started, Ron. Harry's going to leave with Dumbledore in a few minutes. We're going to see him before he leaves."

Ron seemed to wake up much more quickly than usual at this news. He didn't move for a second, obviously too stunned to. But he seemed to recover faster than Hermione had, for he nodded and stood quickly.

The trip to Dumbledore's office was quick and very quiet. No one wanted to speak, and so no one did. Hermione would have thought it awkward had she not, like her companions, been using all her mental energy to get horrible ideas of what she would soon be going through out of her mind.

"Sugar Quill," said Professor McGonagall, and Hermione looked up. They had reached Dumbledore's office. The stone gargoyle jumped alive and moved out of the way at what was clearly the password. The students entered, closely followed by Professor McGonagall. Dumbledore sat at his desk on the opposite side of the room, talking with a very tired-looking Harry.

"Ah, thank you, Minerva," said Dumbledore, noticing their presence. "Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, I assume you know why you are here?" Hermione and Ron nodded. Dumbledore paused, crossing his fingers and looking sadly over at them. "It is not time to grieve yet," he said quietly, "there will be ample time for that later on. But let's not bother ourselves with that now. For now, let us merely say farewell, and part paths briefly, for brief, I'm sure, it will be." He smiled at them.

Harry stood from his seat and stepped over to Hermione, who was closest. Hermione didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around him, not wanting to let go. "It's alright, Hermione," said Harry softly, "I'm not disappearing forever. I'll see you again soon," he looked at her pleadingly, his hands on her shoulders, "and _please_, don't waste your energy and thought worrying about me. I'll be fine."

Hermione nodded sadly, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I'll miss you, Harry. Be safe." Harry smiled and moved on to Ron.

They shook hands, being boys, and exchanged farewells, both much more miserable than either would admit to. "Take care of yourself, mate," said Ron, clapping him on the shoulder.

"You too," said Harry, walking over to Dumbledore, who had taken this time to make a port key.

"Minerva, I've left instructions and information for the students and Heads of house on my desk. I expect to many of them, this news will be quite surprising. Good luck with everything," said Dumbledore. Without another word, he and Harry reached out to the port key and, within seconds, were gone.

…

Professor McGonagall walked Ron and Hermione back to Gryffindor tower and followed them through the portrait hole into the common room. She too now looked extremely worn-out, even more so than she looked sad or worried--the two emotions affecting Hermione the most. "I suggest that you two get some sleep tonight," said Professor McGonagall, "The school will be evacuated tomorrow, and rest may not be easy to come by for some time." She turned to go to her private quarters, but then said, "It may be better not to mention the news to your fellow students until we make the announcement tomorrow morning. They might react better, and I don't want you to have the burden of telling them. Goodnight." She disappeared through a wooden door in the wall, leaving Ron and Hermione in silence.

"I suppose McGonagall's right;" said Ron, "we should get some rest." He looked worriedly at Hermione, who hadn't said anything, or, indeed, _moved_ since they had entered the common room. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "It's going to turn out alright, Hermione. Get some sleep."

Hermione nodded slowly, staring at nothing in particular, and then said, "I'll go up to bed in a bit. See you tomorrow."

Ron left to go to his dormitories and Hermione took a seat in one of the armchairs. She didn't know why she didn't just go to bed; there was nothing she could do before morning that would change anything. But somehow, she didn't think she'd be able to sleep with this development hanging over her. Harry had told her not to worry about him, but how could she _not_? She tried to comfort herself by remembering that Harry was with Dumbledore, the one person the Dark Lord feared. He was probably safer wherever he was then than he would be at Hogwarts.

Slightly comforted, and suddenly very sleepy, Hermione felt her eyelids get heavier. Eventually, sleep overtook her and she didn't awake for several hours, by which time the sky was starting to lighten in the distance, though the sun could still not be seen through the clouds.

Hermione warily opened her eyes and looked around, unaware that she had drifted off. The crackling fire had long ago died away, and the common room was unusually cold and dark. Hermione gasped in surprise when she discovered what had woken her up; a small owl sat patiently in her lap, a parchment hurriedly tied to its leg.

Hermione untied the parchment and smiled at the cute little bird. The message was scribbled in a familiar handwriting and was very brief:

_The war has started. I leave at dawn to apparate from Hogsmeade…_

The message had another sentence or so, but Hermione didn't bother finishing it as she jerked her head towards the window. It _was_ dawn! She leapt out of her chair and quickly exited through the portrait of the fat lady. Sprinting down the corridors with the parchment tightly clasped in her hand, Hermione didn't even bother checking around corners for teachers.

She soon developed a stitch in her side, but she didn't slow down; outside, the day was breaking at an alarming rate. Breathing heavily, Hermione finally found herself in the Entrance Hall. She leaned against the wall for support and looked around the dark area. Nothing stirred; no one was there. She desperately checked down several hallways leading to the Entrance Hall, but still nothing.

She slid down the stone wall, quickly losing hope, her head in her arms. As her breathing slowed, she thought she heard a slight tapping sound…footsteps? She looked up and saw a cloaked figure across the room, a bag filled with a few belongings in hand.

Even in the darkness, Hermione recognized the figure immediately, "DRACO!" she called, jumping to her feet and running over to him. He turned, startled, and nearly fell over when Hermione flung her arms around his neck in a tight embrace, which he returned.

They pulled away from the hug and Draco kissed Hermione on the lips, his hand on the back of her neck. Hermione kissed him back with everything she wanted to say, imparting all her emotions without speaking. They pulled apart once again and some of the tears Hermione had been trying to contain slipped down her cheek. Draco swiped them away with his thumb, whispering softly, "This isn't the last time I'll see you, Granger." She nodded, but her eyes looked doubtful, and she still looked miserable. "I'm sorry it has to be this way," he said honestly, "but there's no backing out now."

Hermione nodded once more and rested her head on his chest, her arms circling his waist. She wanted to keep him there forever, but she knew she'd only make things worse by delaying his return home. She unwillingly pulled herself away and said quietly, her voice trembling slightly, "Bye, Draco. I'll miss you."

Draco gave her one last kiss and started towards the doors, carrying his hurriedly-packed bag with him. He opened them to the overcast early morning outside. Hermione stood and watched as the heavy doors clicked shut and he disappeared from sight.

She had wanted to say more than she did; there was more she wanted him to know. If their goodbye had lasted longer, she might have told him these things…but it hadn't, and she didn't. Instead she was left to sit alone on the bottom steps in the Entrance Hall, her sadness bringing the quiet sobs that only she could hear. Instead it was only the unfeeling stone walls that heard her whisper softly, "_I love you._"

…

It was not of his own desire that Draco heaved open the large wooden doors to the castle. The only thing that kept him from directly disobeying his father and staying with Hermione was the thought that they would both be dead within the next few months if he did so.

He couldn't bear to even look back, for fear he might change his mind on the spot. An unfamiliar sense of pain overcame Draco as he quickly walked further and further from the school. Draco had trouble dealing with the emotional ache he felt; nothing had ever come close to feeling the same. He cursed the world aloud, but for all the good it did, he might as well have not bothered.

Light rain splashed onto his face, but he didn't bother preventing it. As far as he was concerned, it merely seemed as though the weather could sympathize with him.

Only when he had reached the near-empty streets of the village and the rain was pouring down far more harshly did he turn and look back at the castle. Wondering when he would ever see it--or more importantly, a certain someone inside of it--again, he apparated to Malfoy manor.

…

Hermione started the long walk back to Gryffindor tower slowly, her cheeks still wet from her tears. She numbly looked out a large window in the second-story corridor, seeing the rain heavily falling on the grounds below. She stood there for several minutes, with no desire to do anything else, when she realized Draco's letter was still crumpled in her fist. She flattened it out and read it over again:

_The war has started. I leave at dawn to apparate from Hogsmeade. If I don't manage to see you before I leave, I want you to know that this war is not marking the end of what's started between us. I'm certain I'll see you again; whether soon or not for years. Until then, I'll miss you, Hermione._

_Draco_

Hermione finished the letter for the first time and rested her forehead against the cold glass, closing her eyes. Despite what Draco had said, this _did_ feel like the end, and Hermione didn't think she'd ever experienced something so painful.

**END OF PART ONE**


	9. Chapter 9

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**PART TWO: THE PREDICTED WAR**

Hermione did not return to Gryffindor tower of her own will; she was found by Professor McGonagall, who thought Hermione was worried only about Harry and was fairly understanding, but insisted that Hermione return to her dormitory and pack any valuables that she could carry in a small bag. Hermione said nothing to her head of house, but nodded and did as she was instructed.

The other girls in her dormitory were thankfully asleep when Hermione arrived, so she sat on her bed and drew the curtains closed around her. She later heard the others wake up and head down to breakfast, unaware of the news they would soon receive. When the dormitory was empty save herself, Hermione opened her bed curtains and pulled together a few of her most valued possessions.

She was only half-conscious as she did all this; she had been in a kind of trance the entire morning. Somehow, her almost dream-like state was easier to handle. She didn't have to think about anything, so she didn't.

Hermione only came back to earth when the sounds of hurried footsteps and anxious voices reached her ears. The students had just been told about the war and were undoubtedly back in the tower to, like Hermione had, pack the few things they needed to keep. Sure enough, her roommates soon loudly swung open the door of the dormitory, talking noisily, unaware of her presence.

Being the only one not in a state of panic, fear, or shock, Hermione slowly made her way down to the common room, her book bag slung over her shoulder. Professor McGonagall was congregating some students in a corner, and Hermione walked over in that direction. Ron was down a minute or so later. He walked over and stood next to Hermione but the two said nothing.

"Is that everyone, Ms. Brown?" Professor McGonagall asked a few minutes later, seeing Lavender coming down the dormitory steps. Lavender nodded and joined the mass of Gryffindors in the common room. "Students, follow me please," said Professor McGonagall, pushing open the portrait hole and gesturing for the Gryffindors to follow her.

They were led out of the castle and onto the cold, wet grounds. Hermione could see the immense groups of people that were the other three houses, each led by their own Head. When everyone was on the border of the grounds, the Heads of House turned to their pupils and spoke. Hermione could only hear McGonagall's words over the rain, but she had a feeling the other Heads were saying similar things to their houses.

"Students!" shouted Professor McGonagall over the harsh sounds of the weather, "Please give me your attention! Everyone under the age of sixteen will be leaving on the Hogwarts Express shortly and will return to their respective homes. Those of you who are sixteen, seventeen, or eighteen, you have been given the choice of joining Dumbledore's side for the war or returning to your parents."

The students immediately started whispering to each other. "What are _you_ going to do?" Hermione heard Neville ask Seamus worriedly. "I'm going home," responded Seamus, "I'll join up later, though." Similar conversations were sprouting up everywhere.

"Are you staying?" Hermione asked Ron, although she knew the answer.

"Of course," said Ron immediately, "Can't let Harry down, can I?"

Hermione nodded and turned back to McGonagall, but Ron asked, "You're joining too, right?"

Hermione thought for a moment. She knew she would join, but she wasn't as confident in that decision as Ron seemed. Suddenly, she wasn't all that eager to fight in the war. She knew she would; it was the right thing to do, and deep down, she knew that she wanted to. But right then, her keenness to fight the Dark side was lower than it had ever been. Obviously the thought of fighting against Draco lingered in the back of her mind--though she kept reminding herself that the chance of the two of them ever meeting during the war was extremely slim--but that was only part of it. Now that the war had actually arrived, she felt slightly nauseated thinking about the fact that she might soon be trying to actually _kill_ people, evil as they might be. Even so, she replied, "Of course I am."

Slowly, the younger students, along with some of the older ones, made their way down to Hogsmeade station. The few remaining people watched them go, standing in the heavy rain and waiting for instructions. Hermione briefly wondered if her parents had been notified of the evacuation, but then realized Dumbledore would have made sure all the families knew what was going on. All the same, Hermione hoped her parents wouldn't worry too much about her; they were so protective.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by Professor McGonagall's voice, "Students! Follow me please, and keep up with the group!"

There were about thirty students remaining, and they all picked up their belongings and did as they were told. They were led to the edge of the forest, and then on into the forest itself. Hermione wondered where on earth they were going and how long it would take to get there. Would they go directly to the heart of the forest? Would they still be amongst the dark trees and magical creatures when nighttime came?

The forest thickened, and despite their effort to keep together, the group slowly separated, traveling in tight groups. The sky grew harder and harder to see, and eventually, it was lost altogether in the thick, dark branches. Although this meant they no longer felt the rain, Hermione wished the sky was at least _visible_; the darkness was unnerving.

Gradually, all the students and Professors had pulled out their wands and lighted them in hopes of seeing better. Hermione didn't know how long they traveled; for seemingly endless hours they walked on. Hermione had never realized just how huge the forest was. They were still clearly towards the middle part; the trees were still very close together.

Then, not too far away, Hermione thought she saw some natural light coming through the trees. She doubted it was the opposite edge of the forest, so was it a clearing of some sort? When the students reached it, the Professors stopped them and waited until the entire group had made it. Hermione noticed while she was waiting that the rain had stopped, though the sky was still overcast.

Once again, Professor McGonagall stood before them all to speak. "Students," she said, "We will stop here. This is to be our training grounds, according to the Headmaster's orders. We will camp here until you are all ready, or until another reason to move is made clear.

"You will be divided into groups of five or six and each group will have the supervision of at least one Professor. We have a few materials for you to make shelters of, though I am afraid there are not enough for all to be as comfortable as they are used to.

"Now, when I call your name, please remember your group number…" Professor McGonagall pulled a list from her robes that she had obviously made earlier or during the trip. Hermione found herself only half-listening. Her mind was on Draco, and where he might be at that moment.

She had tried not thinking of him, but how could she not? How could she possibly just forget about him and not worry about him until the end of the war? No one could do that. She felt tears trying to form again, but she fought them off. Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd be busy enough in training to forget.

…

Draco's mother opened the door to the manor when he knocked. She smiled when she saw him and gave him a quick hug. "Welcome back, Draco. Your father's waiting for you in his study."

Draco left his belongings by the front door and headed down a hallway to his left. He looked darkly at the strange magical objects that decorated the hall. He had no idea what each of their individual functions were, but knew that his father had collected them around and before the time of Draco's birth, when the Dark Lord had first risen to power.

He reached the dark wooden door that marked his father's study and hesitated before knocking. Draco knew he didn't want to hear anything that his father was going to tell him. Even so, he raised his first a knocked twice, as his father had instructed him to do since the age of six.

"Come in, Draco," said Lucius through the door.

Draco entered the room and after closing the door behind him, sat down in the black chair opposite his father's desk. The place was as dim and cold as it had always been. What did his father have against natural light?

"Clearly you've received my letters over the past months. I trust you were the only one to read them?" asked Lucius.

Draco's heart skipped a beat, but he tried to sound honest when he said, "Yes, sir."

"You're positive?" Lucius wore a small smile that had always made Draco nervous.

"Yes," said Draco, not daring to look his father in the eye.

"Good. I was careful to not give away many details, just in case they were somehow intercepted, but it is best that no one else knows of their existence." Lucius pushed aside a stack of parchments that he had been examining before Draco entered and leaned forward slightly in his chair. "Now that you are here, I can tell you more than I've been able to while you were at school.

"The start of the war happened late last night at the Ministry of Magic. Any leads the Ministry had on former or suspected Death Eaters were destroyed, the few employees still there at that hour were killed, and the Dark Lord himself left a very clear message burned into the floor that let everyone know the war had begun. You needed to know that to understand where we currently are and what has already happened. By the end of the day, the entire magical community will know and start to panic, and we have plans to use that to our advantage, not to mention the fact that the Ministry has now lost all the information it had on any Death Eaters or where they might be." Lucius had a strange look in his eye, which Draco imagined could only be happiness, having rarely seen it before in his father's features. How sad it was that the only thing that made Lucius Malfoy genuinely happy was the death of others and the triumph of evil people.

Lucius continued, "I cannot give you any more information on plans or your part in them until after your pledge of devotion tomorrow night. We talked about this before; do you remember the general proceedings?"

"Yes," said Draco. He felt numb as he realized that after tomorrow, he would be officially recognized as a servant of the Dark Lord. It was a horrible thought, but what choice was there? He had known this was coming, but he hadn't taken the time to prepare for it. He realized now that he should have; maybe then the idea wouldn't seem as appalling as it did now.

"Then you are free to go to your room and get settled. You may not leave the house except to follow orders, which will be given to you tomorrow or the day after."

Draco stood and left the study, closing the door behind him. Locked in the manor except for when he was given instructions to kill people, how wonderful.

Draco felt that his current state of gloominess would not disappear anytime soon, and though this depressed him, what had he expected? He took his bag up to the second floor, where his old bedroom was. He opened the door and found that the large room had grown stuffy and dusty in his absence. He crossed to the other side and opened the blinds of his two windows. Green fields stretched out below under the overcast sky and Draco wondered why he had never noticed before what a nice view he had from this room.

He sat on his windowsill looking into the distance for quite some time, not having anything else to do and feeling the need to think quietly on his own for a while. He wondered if, over the next year or so, he would have a lot of time to think like this, and if so, if that would be what eventually drove him to insanity.

…

The students were divided into their groups. Hermione was in the same group as Ron, with Professor Flitwick as their supervisor. Once everyone was sorted out, an assortment of muggle tools and supplies were laid out before the students. When asked what they were for, the professors said that if, for any reason, a person lost their wand or their wand was unusable, the ability to work with non-magical equipment would be essential. Hermione wasn't fazed by this, but Ron looked a bit worried.

"If our wands are gone, we're done for anyway, aren't we? So what's the point of learning to use all this stuff?" he asked.

"Oh, it's not that bad Ron. And there are loads of situations in which might need to build a shelter without magic," replied Hermione.

"What're the chances of having any of these things to build a shelter if we don't even have our wands?"

"Ron! Just do it, it's not that difficult!"

Grumpily, Ron picked up the materials as instructed by Professor Flitwick, and worked with the other members of his group to put them together in the right way. They worked for longer than Hermione expected, but then, few, if any, of the others had done this before. She forgave them for their sad handiwork and lack of understanding.

The students and Professors skipped right over lunch and before long, the sky started to darken as the sun set. Around this time, Professor McGonagall assembled all of the students together to demonstrate a proper conjuring charm for food. She explained that although it was typically called a conjuring charm, it was more of a transporting charm, as the food they were to "conjure" actually already existed back at the castle.

The spell was tricky, as the students had to fully concentrate on a certain spot in the kitchens of the castle, and imagine the food that was stored there. As usual, Hermione was the first to master it, and she sat with her rather pathetic dinner of bread and cheese while everyone else got increasingly frustrated and hungry. She felt bad for them, but Professor McGonagall had strictly forbidden her helping anyone, saying that they must accomplish it on their own so that they may use it later on if necessary.

Hermione wondered if the food had been planted there for this exact purpose, or if there just happened to be some extra food back at the school kitchens that the Professors had figured they could use to teach the students this charm. What would happen when the food at the castle rotted or ran out? Would they forage the forest for food of some kind, or would their training be done by then?

Her questions were soon answered by Professor McGonagall, who said, "The Headmaster made certain that there was plenty of food in the kitchens for our training session here before he left. It is only because we planted the food there earlier that this charm is accomplishable. Had we no such source, this charm would have no effect due to what I said earlier about it not really conjuring the food. There should be enough for the time we are here, so finding meals will not be one of your tasks. May I take this moment to say, however, that when you are on your own, it is always a good idea to have a significant source of non-perishable food stored somewhere, so that you may use this charm in need."

Hermione finished her meal long before most of the others had even managed to get theirs. Ron was in a bad mood due to his hunger--which was always present, but most especially in this case, when he'd had little food all day--so Hermione didn't feel compelled to start a conversation with him. She sat watching her classmates for a while and felt herself growing steadily more tired. She conjured a blanket for herself with her well-researched _Aperix _charm and lay down under the unstable-looking shelter her group had put together earlier in the day. She curled up in a tight ball and soon drifted off to the sounds of the forest around her.

…

_Hermione opened her eyes and stood. The reliving of her past had made her feel better while it lasted, but now the good memories were over, and the sad, harsh ones came next. She remembered the sadness she'd felt that first day in the woods, the first day of the war. It had lasted far longer than she'd intended it to. She had planned on training hard enough to forget her fears and sadness, but even the intensity of her work couldn't drive it away completely._

_It wasn't until the training was over, and her first battles had been fought, that she grew numb enough to forget her pain. Her numb trance had lasted to the end, and was still with her, in a way. She didn't need its help as much anymore; it had been long enough that she had gotten past their separation on her own. _

_Hermione didn't want to recall what happened next in her life, but when she stepped over to the broken windows of the tower, she couldn't prevent it. Various memories came back in a hurry, and she didn't waste much energy in stopping them._

…

The students time in training went by quickly, lasting only about three weeks. The Ministry's need for willing witches and wizards to fight was growing every day, and when the students had learned enough to start helping, they were sent to various places and assigned various duties.

Because Hermione was a fast-learner and more intelligent than most, she assisted the aurors in their hunts for Death Eaters and their hiding places. Battles in this war were not planned, but erupted when several aurors attacked a Death Eater hideout or when the reverse happened, and Death Eaters attacked a Ministry building or camp. Everything that happened was a surprise, and everyone soon learned to be constantly alert.

Security was heightened greatly at all major buildings and sites that in any way the Dark side might find threatening. At St. Mungo's, trained guards were everywhere, and every single person that came was checked over thoroughly. Hermione once had a job as a guard at St. Mungo's, but soon tried to find a way out of it as she watched the number of wounded people waiting for help increase every day. The healers couldn't keep up with it all, as hard as they tried. It depressed Hermione so much that she begged to get a position elsewhere.

In the beginning of Hermione's time assisting the aurors, she mainly stayed at the Ministry building, acting as a sort of secretary in that she received many reports of Death Eater sightings from different witches and wizards and sorted them. If there were several reports of Death Eaters in one area, she would tell an auror in the office and he or she might organize a group to investigate the suspected area.

It was a very tedious job, happy though Hermione was to be helping in any way. She very quickly got bored with this job as she filtered through more and more reports every day, half of which were misleading. Apparently her boredom did not go unnoticed, however, as after a few weeks had passed, Hermione was upgraded to doing a bit of field work with the fully-trained aurors.

She was now part of the next step in the reports she had spent so much time on. She was now a part of the groups that went to investigate certain areas. The idea frightened her at first, but when, after a week of doing this, she had yet to run into a Death Eater on these missions, her anxiety lessened.

Her second week at her new position was similar to her first until the end. There were several false alarms but on Thursday, for the first time, the reports they'd gotten were correct.

Hermione was called from her small desk in the early afternoon to join a group of four aurors in an investigation of a small town a bit north of London. The aurors did not speak to her when she joined them, nor did they talk to one another. Hermione had learned from her experiences with them that aurors tended to be very sullen, reserved people. This had not been true of other aurors she'd known in the past, but the war had turned most of them this way out of anxiety and lack of decent sleep.

The group went silently to the lobby of the Ministry of Magic building. When they reached the apparition point, each of the aurors stepped forward in turn and disapparated. Hermione, having learned how to disapparate during her weeks of training, followed suit and soon found herself with the others in what looked like an alleyway between two stone buildings. Though it was daytime, the alley was strangely dark and shadowy. The sky was a threatening black-grey, which didn't help with the lighting.

For the first time, a member of the group spoke. "Three reports mentioned seeing suspicious behavior by hooded men in this exact spot last night. Two others said they saw robed people running down that way," he pointed to the area behind Hermione, "and then turn left at the end. As usual, split up and look for anything that might support these claims and show them to me."

All the members of their small group nodded their understanding and headed to different places in the alley. Hermione started walking in the direction their self-appointed leader had gestured a moment ago in hopes of finding any evidence of Death Eaters having been there recently.

Hermione wasn't all that hopeful; none of the other reports she had been sent to investigate had turned up anything useful, so why should this one? She looked around half-heartedly, not expecting to see anything out of the ordinary….

But then, Hermione found herself surprised. Her eyes had passed over the bottom of a doorway to her right without really registering what she'd seen, but she paused a moment to look back at it. There, half-hidden under a closed door, was a dirt-covered, black wand.

Hermione stepped over to the door and leaned down to pick it up. She paused for a moment before touching it, having always been taught never to touch an unknown magical object without confirmation that it was safe. But the wand looked as though it had merely been forgotten, or tossed aside, and not as though it had been placed there as a trap, so Hermione quickly slid it out from under the door holding her breath.

When nothing happened, she let out a sigh of relief and examined her find more closely. She now saw that the wand was broken near the tip; the wood was splintered and a very thin strip held the two pieces together. "_Priori_ _Incantato_," she muttered, wondering if the spell would work on a broken wand. To her surprise, a wisp of light-colored smoke emerged from the tip of the wand and an eerie, cold voice whispered, "_Obliviate_."

Hermione realized at this point that she should immediately take the wand to the leading auror, but her curiosity pushed her to try the knob on the door in front of her. It was locked, as Hermione had expected. She pointed her own wand at the key-hole and whispered, "_Alohomora_." She tried turning the knob again, but it remained firmly locked. With a sudden memory and a pang of sadness that she immediately pushed away, Hermione raised her and again and said hesitantly, "_Puertabra_."

She heard a distinct clicking noise and felt the doorknob turn in her hand. She pushed the door open and entered slowly, her wand drawn and her eyes and ears alert. The room she had discovered was even darker than the alley she had come from and she lit her wand.

Her wand light fell on the wooden floor of a small, undecorated room with only two simple wooden chairs for furniture. Aside from the chairs, the room was completely empty, or so Hermione thought until she discovered a small cauldron hidden in the shadowy corner of the room. She leaned over the cauldron to see what was inside and found nothing. Slightly disappointed, Hermione started for the door, ready to show what she had discovered to the aurors.

As her hand wrapped around the smooth metal of the doorknob once more, the sound of creaking wood reached her ears. Hermione froze, not daring to even breathe. Someone was definitely coming down a series of wooden steps that undoubtedly led to this very room. Watching the dark stairwell in horror, waiting for someone to appear, Hermione quickly thought, _Nox_, and the light from her wand vanished.

Engulfed in pitch blackness, Hermione didn't move a single muscle. The footsteps got closer and closer and after what seemed like eternity, a light appeared at the bottom of the steps. Hermione inched her way into the farthest corner from the stairwell and flattened herself against the wall as much as possible. She struggled mentally to find a spell, any spell, that might hide her, and she suddenly remembered the Disillusionment Charm she'd been taught during her training. Thinking strongly about the spell, she rapped herself hard on the head, and felt a cold, strange feeling wash over her.

A figure emerged at the bottom of the steps as Hermione's spell worked to make her blend with her surroundings. The person was wearing a hooded robe that shadowed his or her face so that Hermione could not see it. The figure raised its wand high above its head and turned its head, looking around for something. Hermione felt that whoever it was was looking for her.

The person stopped moving as its wand light fell upon Hermione's disillusioned form. Hermione knew that the spell hadn't made her completely invisible, that it would appear to the person that the air in the corner was bending the light in a funny way.

The figure stepped slowly towards her, wand still raised. Hermione knew there was no chance of her being undiscovered, but she silently hoped that something, anything, might distract the unknown person approaching her….

The figure stopped about two feet from Hermione. She saw the light gleaming in two eyes beneath the person's hood. Then, without warning, the person swiftly brought down the wand and hit Hermione hard on the head. "Ow!" said Hermione involuntarily. She felt a sudden wave of warmth wash over her body and realized that the stranger had lifted her Disillusionment Charm.

Hermione held her breath and waited for something to happen. Dare she raise her wand? As this person's wand was already pointed directly at her, she'd be at a slight disadvantage.

While Hermione debated with herself about what to do, the stranger chuckled softly. "Well, well," said a low voice that made Hermione realize it was a man under the hood, "you aurors are getting younger by the day. Still, I can't deny that I'm impressed you found this place." He looked around the room, as if expecting others to appear out of midair. "Alone, are you? Even more impressive." He paused a minute, seemingly examining Hermione, though she could not tell due to his face being in shadow. "Well, all the easier for me that you are. _Stupefy_."

Hermione felt consciousness leave her immediately.


	10. Chapter 10

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 10**

Draco was sitting in an old wooden chair that had been in his family for generations. Right now it was positioned in a ring of others like it, all of which were facing a large fire. It was nighttime, and the fire creepily illuminated the hooded faces of the men and women in the circle. A tall, unbelievably thin man paced around the fire and spoke to the entire group with his hands in an almost prayer-like position under his chin. Despite his stick-figure build, this man had an aura of great authority and power. It was this that made his listeners treat his every word as law.

Draco heard little of the long speech; his eyes were not on the hooded man in the center, but on the stars and moon above him. Aside from the fire, they were the only things for miles that offered any light. Draco found them especially captivating tonight, though he didn't know why.

"Draco," said a cold voice.

Draco snapped back to earth and stood automatically with his head slightly bowed. "My Lord," he replied, trying not to gag.

"Kneel before me." Draco did as he was told and took two steps toward Lord Voldemort and knelt, his head still bowed. "Extend your left arm." Again, Draco obeyed. Voldemort placed one long, icy finger on Draco's forearm and said, "Now recite the vow, Draco."

Draco swallowed hesitantly, then said, "To you, my Lord, I offer anything my life has to give in support of your cause. I pledge to be loyal to only you and to do anything you ask of me without question or hesitation of any kind. I promise this until I die in your service or until you release me from it." Draco felt his arm burn horribly with every word he spoke and struggled to keep his voice steady. "Do you accept my offer of service?"

"Yes," said Voldemort, and Draco felt the pain surge suddenly so that he felt the urge to cry out, but he kept his mouth closed and the pain slowly ebbed away. "You may now join your fellow Death Eaters as we conclude."

Draco nodded and stood, his forearm still stinging where the Dark Mark had just been burned upon it. He sat in the old wooden chair once more and listened to Voldemort's closing words.

"Friends, the war is finally here, after all this time of careful planning. While we are, and should be, thrilled by this, it is not yet time for celebration. That time will come soon enough with our hard work. Until we meet again, you all know your individual orders. Draco," Voldemort stepped towards him and held out a scroll of parchment, "here are yours."

Without another word, the Dark Lord stepped back and disapparated. The others in the circle did so shortly after, so that soon only the two Malfoys remained.

Draco stood, his orders in hand, and walked silently back to the manor and immediately up to his room. When the door was closed behind him, Draco stepped over to the window and with slightly unsteady hands, undid the scroll's wax seal. Inside was a message written in neat but incredibly narrow writing that disappeared entirely after Draco had finished reading it. Draco watched curiously as after he read each sentence, the ink that went into it vanished from the parchment. Thankfully he could still picture the words in his mind, so he could remember his instructions, as boring as they were.

He had been told to spend a few weeks in Diagon Alley, merely for the purpose of getting supplies for other Death Eaters. He was one of the very few that was not yet known as a servant of the Dark Lord, and so could buy various things without being turned in, whereas his fellows could not. It sounded like a pretty worthless job to Draco, and a terrible waste of time, but he wasn't complaining; he would do others' shopping for them any day when the alternative was killing innocent people for their information or power.

Draco set the parchment down on his stone windowsill and watched as flames suddenly formed around the outsides and worked their way to the center. Before long, all that remained of his orders was a small pile of grey ashes, making it impossible for anyone but himself to know what they had been.

…

"_Ennervate._"

Hermione awoke in the dark, cramped attic of an unfamiliar house. Through a tiny window to her right, she saw that the sun had already set and that she had been unconscious for hours. A small blue fire in the center of the room was the only source of light, and on the other side of it was another hooded figure, though Hermione did not know it was the same one she'd met earlier until he spoke.

"Good evening, Ms. Granger," he said.

Hermione sat up slowly and tried to stretch out her horribly cramped neck. "How do you know my name?" she asked suspiciously.

Hermione thought she could feel the man's smile. "I didn't know it until this afternoon. You see, when I spoke earlier with my master about you, he told me your name. He also said that you were not a good source of information now but that you may prove useful later, so I was instructed to let you go."

"To let me go?" asked Hermione, confused.

"Yes. Don't ask; I've no idea why. But I'd advise you to leave before my master changes his mind." The man gestured to the stairwell descending from the attic.

Hermione didn't ask for any more clarification; she nodded to the man, looking at him curiously, and started down the steps, quickening her pace as she went. She found her way out of the house and ran down the road outside it for awhile until it was out of sight. At this point she slowed down and tried to think some things through.

The first question that popped to her mind was why Voldemort thought she might be useful later. Any reason she could think of terrified her. But then she began to wonder…was that man really a Death Eater? If not, then Voldemort wouldn't have been the master he talked about. But what else could he be? A part of another, similar group perhaps? But that didn't really make sense. All evidence suggested that the man was a Death Eater and therefore a servant of Voldemort.

But the man that had just freed her seemed a bit too good-humored to be a Death Eater. She'd always thought of the lot of them as evil, greedy people that were happy to kill anyone who crossed their path. This one just hadn't fit the mold somehow.

Extremely confused and tired, Hermione stopped walking and took only one look back in the direction of the house before disapparating.

…

Draco's time working in Diagon Alley passed slowly, but eventually ended. His five weeks of seemingly eternal boredom were up, and he was instructed to return to Malfoy Manor.

A few days passed after Draco's return during which nothing happened. He spent hour after hour staring out the window in his room doing nothing but thinking. He didn't eat much, he didn't sleep very often; his depression and isolation made him forget about such things. He knew that if he continued to live like this, he would eventually lose his mind, but he didn't really care anymore, and worse, no one that did care was there for him.

On one of these days, though since Draco had lost all sense of time, he didn't know which, Lucius returned home and summoned Draco to his study. This forced Draco out of his trance and he slowly walked down to his father's study to start the meeting he desperately wanted not to attend.

When he knocked twice, a voice from inside said, "Enter."

Draco obeyed, closed the door behind him, and sat in his usual chair across from his father's desk. A horribly long moment passed in silence before Lucius startled Draco by asking, "How strong is your loyalty to the Dark Lord, Draco?"

"I would die to serve him," responded Draco mechanically.

Lucius studied him as if trying to detect a lie. "That's a good answer, Draco, but the Dark Lord doesn't believe it." Draco tried to look innocently puzzled as his heartbeat quickened. He waited for his father to elaborate, but instead Lucius continued, "Perhaps you can prove your loyalty in your next assignment," he handed Draco a scroll of parchment identical to the one Draco had received his first night as a Death Eater.

"Don't doubt the Dark Lord, Draco," advised Lucius, looking Draco steadily in the eye, "You know he is gifted in Legilimency."

"Yes, sir," said Draco, lowering his eyes to the orders in his lap.

"Then you are free to leave and read your newest instructions."

Draco stood and left the room quickly, his heart still beating abnormally fast. _So the Dark Lord thinks I'm untrustworthy,_ he thought on the way up to his room, _I have to prove my loyalty or it's all over_. If he ended up dead, then coming back and becoming a Death Eater had all been completely pointless….

Draco thought back to the talk he'd had with Hermione in the library, how she had told him to join the Dark side to avoid death. But if he was killed anyway, then he had suffered through the past few weeks for nothing, he had left Hermione for nothing. The thought was unbearable.

He reached his room and crossed instinctively to the window. There, he slid his finger under the wax seal of the scroll in his hand and opened it. Once again, his instructions were written in that neat, thin writing that was charmed to disappear after he had read them. Draco finished reading and set the parchment on the windowsill as it started burning at the edges.

These set of orders too used the fact that he was not known as a Death Eater as an advantage. He was to go to the Ministry and ask for a position in the aurors' offices, saying that he hadn't gone to training with the other Hogwarts students because his parents had wanted him to come home first and that he was now available to help. Once he had gotten a job, he would use his position to mislead the aurors in any way possible.

It was the perfect way to test his loyalty. If Draco really was loyal to the Dark Lord, he would have no trouble in sending the aurors in the wrong direction. If, however, his loyalty was with the other side, he wouldn't be able to deceive the aurors in such a way.

Draco sighed and brushed the ashes off of his windowsill. There was no easy way out of his situation, but he would decide what to do if and when he convinced the aurors to give him a job.

…

When Hermione arrived at the Ministry the next morning she was immediately asked to visit the office of Gloria Stone, one of Hermione's superiors in the department. Hermione had been expecting this and she went dutifully to the office to be questioned.

"Please sit down, Hermione," said Gloria when Hermione entered.

Hermione did so and waited expectantly for Gloria to start asking.

"What the aurors who were with you yesterday have told me," said Gloria, leaning back slightly in her chair, "is that you arrived with them to investigate a Death Eater report, but when they had finished searching and were ready to return to the Ministry, you had disappeared. We almost filed you as a missing person this morning, but then here you were. Any explanations?" Gloria looked at Hermione a bit accusingly and Hermione felt suddenly guilty, as though what had happened was her own fault.

"Well, I was helping search the alley with the others when I saw a wand poking out from underneath a door…" Hermione said and told Gloria the entire story of what had happened to her the day before. Gloria listened patiently and didn't interrupt Hermione at all. When Hermione had finished, the two of them sat in silence for a moment.

Then Gloria said, "I don't blame you for what happened, Hermione, but you should have taken the wand to the more experienced aurors before investigating on your own. Especially when no one else knew what you were doing or where you were. It's really very lucky that you've come back unharmed," she suddenly looked a bit perplexed, "I actually can't think of any reason why you have. Obviously I'm pleased, but…you say the man said that you may be useful to them later?"

"Yes," said Hermione, as puzzled as Gloria was about the whole thing.

Gloria thought for a moment without speaking, but then said, "As happy as I am to have you working with us here, Hermione, I don't think that it would be…well, _safe_ for you to continue in your position here." Hermione nodded understandingly; she had prepared herself for this. "It's not that you haven't done well, it's just that if you continue to investigate reports with the aurors, it will be all too easy for this to happen again--only with a less lucky outcome." Hermione nodded again in agreement. Gloria smiled apologetically. "Why don't you come back on Monday, by then I should have information on your new position."

"That would be fine. Thank you, Gloria," said Hermione, standing.

"I'll see you Monday, Hermione."

…

Draco waited a few days before acting on his instructions. He knew that with the Dark Lord suspecting him and all, he shouldn't put off his assignment too long, but he needed the time to work out a decent plan. He first thought of not working very hard at getting the job, since then his loyalty test would never happen, but decided this was a bad idea after recalling some of the Dark Lord's punishments when others had not succeeded.

He knew that whoever he talked to would want to know why he had not been trained with the other Hogwarts students when the war started, and though in his instructions the Dark Lord had given him an excuse, Draco wanted to phrase it a particular way to make it sound more believable. He also had to steer clear of talk about his father, who was not viewed all that well at the Ministry anymore.

Draco came up with answers to various questions that he might be asked, but the thing he worried about the most was whether his interviewer would ask to see his left forearm for _verification _that he was on their side The idea was very troubling as not only would he fail his assignment, but he'd be locked in Azkaban for at least the remainder of the war, if not longer. Draco hoped very much that no one would think to check.

One morning, Draco finally got up the courage to carry out his plan and disapparated to the Ministry without bothering to tell anyone he was leaving. He didn't think either of his parents even knew he was still at home.

He soon found himself in the Ministry lobby, surrounded by various witches and wizards bustling about on their way to their offices. He approached the front desk and was asked by a tired-looking woman to state his name and purpose in the Ministry today.

"Draco Malfoy," said Draco, "I'm here requesting a job."

"Wand, please," said the witch and Draco handed over his wand. She turned away from Draco and placed his wand on a tray behind her. A small slip of parchment soon emerged from underneath the tray that apparently told the witch his wand was fine, for she handed it back to him along with a badge. "Good day, Mr. Malfoy."

"Thank you," said Draco and went through a pair of doors to his right. He waited patiently for a lift and some fifteen minutes later was standing before an office door marked:

GLORIA STONE

_Application and Transfer Official_

Draco knocked on the door lightly and heard the reply, "I'll be with you in a moment!" from inside. He nodded, though Gloria could not see him, and leaned up against the wall to wait.

…

Hermione reappeared at the Ministry the following Monday morning as Gloria had asked her to. "Ah, Hermione," said Gloria, smiling, when Hermione entered her office. She gestured to the chair in front of her desk and Hermione took off her traveling cloak and sat in it.

"Have you found somewhere for me to work?" asked Hermione.

"Yes," said Gloria, "I've asked around, and it seems that St. Mungo's is heightening its security greatly, and is in need of some able guards. I know it won't be the most thrilling job," she said apologetically, "but I'm sure you will do very well there, and hopefully it won't be long."

"I can assure you, a less thrilling job is exactly what I was looking for," said Hermione with a smile.

Gloria laughed, "Well, yes, I can imagine." She sorted through some papers on her desk. "It says here you should report to the front desk at St. Mungo's at nine o'clock tomorrow. Your shifts are from nine to eleven in the morning and then two to four in the afternoon, but if those times are a problem, I'm sure you can change them."

"It's no problem," said Hermione.

"Excellent. Well, if you'll just--"

Gloria was interrupted by a sudden knock on her office door. "I'll be with you in a moment!" she called. "As I was saying, Hermione, if you'll just sign this here, you'll be all set," she handed Hermione the paper and her quill. "While you're doing that, I'll see who's here," she said, opening her office door and closing it most of the way behind her.

"May I help you?" Hermione heard Gloria ask the person. She leaned over the paper Gloria had given her and dipped the quill in an inkwell on the desk.

"Yes, I'm here to apply for a position in the auror offices," said a familiar voice that made Hermione's heart stop.

"Really? Well, you're in luck; we have new opening as of today." Hermione found herself suddenly breathing more heavily. Her hand was shaking so horribly that signing her name took a great deal of effort.

"Good," said the voice.

"Oh, I'm Gloria Stone, by the way," said Gloria, "and your name is…"

"Draco Malfoy, a pleasure to meet you." Hermione dropped the quill she was clutching, her worst fears confirmed.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, if you'll just step inside…" Hermione panicked and quickly threw the paper back on Gloria's desk and scrambled to grab her cloak from the back of the chair she'd been sitting in. She didn't care if it was rude, she didn't care if Gloria didn't understand, at that moment she just couldn't take it; she would not be able to handle seeing him again, not now. Just as the door was opening, Hermione disapparated.

Gloria opened the door and allowed Draco to step through. "Oh and this is Hermione, she was just…where did she go?" asked Gloria, confused.

Draco felt his mouth go dry. "Hermione?" he asked slowly.

"Hermione Granger," said Gloria, still looking puzzled, "she was transferring out of the auror offices. I don't know what happened; she was here a moment ago…"

Draco didn't say anything, but he had a feeling he knew exactly what had happened.

…

**Author's Note: **Thank you for reading, and reviews are still greatly appreciated!


	11. Chapter 11

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 11**

Hermione arrived with a small popping noise in her London apartment, which was situated just a few blocks from the visitors' entrance to the Ministry. She sat down in an armchair and leaned back her head, closing her eyes.

The one thing she had thought she wanted so much--to see Draco again--had turned out to be one of the things she was most afraid of. She couldn't understand why she had reacted the way she did; what was it that she was so afraid was going to happen? Then she realized that she had already gone through the horror of separation once; if she were to see him again only for a few minutes and then have to deal with it all over again…it would be too much for her to handle.

It was probably best, she realized, that she had left when she did--for both of them. Having now justified her strange behavior, Hermione took a deep breath and rested in her chair for a while before preparing to start her new position the next day.

…

Draco sat in the chair before Gloria's desk as she had asked him to. He was still a bit dazed from the fact that he had nearly run into Hermione seconds ago. He didn't know how he would have reacted if they had actually met again. There might have been a long, awkward silence while neither of them moved and Gloria looked between them, confused. He smiled at the picture and was jerked out of his trance by Gloria, who asked him, "Now why is it that you would like a position here, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco, ready for this question, answered, "I would like to help the Ministry as much as possible with the fight against the Death Eaters. One of my teachers once mentioned that I would make a good auror, so I figured I would check for openings here first."

Gloria nodded, "and which teacher was this?"

"My Head of House, Severus Snape." Snape had obviously never told Draco any such thing, but the chances of Gloria actually researching this bit of misinformation were slim.

Gloria nodded again, looking down at the piles of papers on her desk, "Did you attend the brief war training with your Professors after Hogwarts was closed?"

Again, a question Draco had expected. "No, my parents requested that I return home immediately," replied Draco truthfully.

"I see…" said Gloria, looking at him thoughtfully. "Well, in that case I'll need to take a quick look at your grade records, just to make sure you're qualified for the position."

"That's fine," said Draco, "do you want me to come back tomorrow?"

"Oh, no, I can get them right now. Do you have a few minutes?" Draco nodded. "I'll be right back."

Draco waited patiently while Gloria ran off to another department to find the file with Draco's grades. He was fairly confident that his grades would be good enough to qualify him for the job, and relaxed a bit in his chair, looking around the office absently. A diploma from Hogwarts was framed on the wall behind Gloria's desk, next to an old picture of Gloria in her school uniform smiling broadly and waving.

Draco's eyes rested for a moment on the diploma, and he realized with some sadness that he would never receive one like it. After all his years, all his hard work at Hogwarts, he would never even graduate.

He heard the door open and Gloria reappeared holding a thin folder with Draco's name on it. She sat down and opened it, sorting the few sheets inside on her desk. She looked at the grade charts in silence, read the note of Draco's appointment as a prefect, and finally said, "Well, well, it appears that you were an excellent student indeed."

Draco didn't know how to respond to this compliment, so he merely smiled.

"It seems that you are perfectly qualified, Mr. Malfoy, so if you will just sign this form…" she hastily pulled a slip of parchment from a drawer in her desk and filled in a few of the blanks. She then handed Draco a quill and he stood up to use her desk as a surface. He handed the form back to Gloria, who initialed it and set it aside. "I'm so glad we've got Hermione's position filled so quickly; so few people want a job with the aurors these days, they think it's too dangerous. Of course it is a bit, but we need people now more than ever with…everything," she finished with a sigh. "Anyway, wonderful to meet you, Mr. Malfoy, you start tomorrow at eight." She stood and offered her hand.

Draco shook it and said, "Thank you, Ms. Stone."

And so he secured the position, just as the Dark Lord had requested.

…

Hermione soon discovered that being a guard was not one of her talents. She had wanted a less exciting job, but she thought this was going a little too far. All she did during her shifts at St. Mungo's was watch various patients and healers go by as her eyelids drooped in her boredom. She knew that her job was supposedly important, but she couldn't help feeling that she was more in the way than actually doing much good.

It depressed her terribly as each day she saw more and more sick and injured witches and wizards coming in every day, all needing more attention than the overworked healers could afford. She desperately wished she could transfer again, but where would she go? She had already been moved from the job she thought would best suit her, and since she hadn't graduated, she didn't qualify for any _real_ positions anywhere. As soon as the war was over, and extra guards were no longer needed, she would be out of luck.

These thoughts didn't help Hermione's depression, but as she had hours and hours each day with nothing to do but think, there was no way to stop them.

The highlight of Hermione's first two weeks at St. Mungo's was letter she received one evening. She had been making herself dinner and an owl had suddenly flown in the open window and landed on her kitchen table. Hermione was very surprised by its appearance and became even more so when she examined it more carefully and wondered aloud, "_Hedwig_?"

The bird hooted and stuck out its leg. Hermione immediately leaned over and untied the letter being delivered. As she unrolled the parchment, the owl flew over to the counter and started helping itself to some raisins Hermione had been snacking on earlier. She didn't mind, nor did she notice; she much too intrigued by the letter--the first she'd received from Harry since that start of the war.

_Hermione,_

_I hope you are well and that you are not worrying obsessively as I have known you to do. I realize that I should have written sooner, but since the start of the war I've been moving place to place with Dumbledore and haven't had time to do so. _

_I don't know if you've heard, but Remus Lupin died last week in the Death Eater attack on Hogsmeade. He was there to keep an eye on things under Dumbledore's orders and they suddenly attacked the whole town. You probably read about it in the _Prophet; _I hear several residents were killed as well. A funeral will be held for him on May 1 at 11 o'clock on the Hogwarts grounds. Dumbledore says he isn't sure if we'll be able to attend yet, but I hope to, and I've also owled Ron, so he may appear as well. _

_I can't say much more here; Dumbledore has warned me not to write too much in letters. Hope to see you on the first._

_Harry_

Hermione gasped softly and felt tears well up in her eyes as she read the news about Lupin. She hadn't read the _Prophet_ lately, and though had known there was an attack on Hogsmeade, did not realize that her anyone she knew had been involved.

She plopped into one of the chairs at her kitchen table and put her head down in her arms. They were wet from her tears when she lifted her head after a moment and she looked sadly over at Hedwig, who seemed to be waiting to take back Hermione's reply. _Poor Harry_, thought Hermione, smiling slightly at the owl. It was bad enough for him to lose Sirius, but now Lupin? The last of his father's friends were gone, unless Peter Pettigrew counted, and Hermione had no idea where he was at the moment.

Was this what Harry had been talking about when he'd told Hermione about his dreams back in January? Was Lupin just the first of a series of their friends that were going to die in the war? The thought was horrible and Hermione tried not to dwell on it as she rummaged in her desk drawer for a piece of parchment and quill.

When she'd found them, Hermione sat back down at the table and wrote Harry a reply mentioning that she would certainly attend the funeral on the first. She told him that she was no longer working under the aurors; that she now had guarding duty at St. Mungo's. She included towards the end that she hoped Harry was alright, wherever he was, and told him--perhaps unnecessarily--to be careful.

She rolled up her message and sealed it with wax before tying it tightly to Hedwig's outstretched leg. Hermione gave the bird a fond tap on the head, which Hedwig responded to with a faint hoot before flying off again.

Sighing softly, Hermione tore her gaze from the open window and wiped the last of the tears from her cheeks before continuing to make her dinner as if there hadn't been an interruption.

…

Draco did not have to go through the secretarial position to start out, as Hermione had. He immediately filled her place investigating the Death Eater reports with the aurors. Though the position was a good one considering he had just started working and he hadn't attended the Hogwarts training session with the other students, Draco really wasn't in much of a position to mislead the aurors as to where actual Death Eater hideouts were.

This didn't bother Draco in the slightest, however. He was perfectly happy to work for the Ministry and when asked by his father why he wasn't doing anything, to merely say that he didn't yet have any authority to tell the aurors where or where not to look.

Days and weeks slid by without Draco having to worry at all about proving his loyalty to the Dark Lord. No evidence was found on any investigation Draco was sent on. He knew that some day the time would come when he did have to make a decision, and eventually, it did.

One afternoon, Draco was filling out a form that would tell his superiors that the reports involving Greenville had been mistaken at his small desk when Sean Miller, an auror that Draco had worked with a couple times before, informed him that they were to look over a spot near Oxford that had been reported.

Draco nodded and followed Sean calmly, but slowly started to panic inside. He knew about a Death Eater hideout near Oxford; he had been there himself on one occasion. It was where certain Death Eaters fled to when the aurors found out who they were or where they had been living. It wasn't a central part of the Dark Lord's web, but there were almost always Death Eaters there, and most likely dark magical objects that had been hidden when the Ministry searched their homes. The Dark Lord wouldn't be happy if it were discovered.

One by one the aurors disapparated to the countryside, and Draco followed them. The appeared in a deserted field at the corners of which were four small houses, and beyond them, more fields. The aurors gathered in a circle and Sean said, "Over the past few weeks, there have been scattered reports of people apparating and disapparating in this field more than would be expected, considering the only wizarding family for miles lives over there," he pointed to a little blue house at the edge of the field. "Search around for an hour; we'll leave then if nothing is found."

The aurors immediately dispersed and searched the field. Some headed off in the direction of the nearest road to search there. Draco tried not to walk suspiciously fast or to look as anxious as he felt as he headed for a deserted-looking building not far away that he knew to be the Death Eater hideout.

He reached it before the others, something he was very grateful for, and quickly crept inside. The room he entered was dark and as deserted-looking as the outside of the house. He checked quickly out the broken window to see if any aurors were following him before approaching a wooden door on the opposite side of the room.

He searched the face of the door quickly before finding what he was looking for: under the doorknob, burned into the wood, was a small Dark Mark. He touched the tip of his wand to the Mark and waited until it glowed green, at which point he pushed the door with his free hand and it swung open.

Two men sat in old, ripped armchairs in the center of the room, one with his face covered by a newspaper and the other with his back to Draco. The one with the newspaper looked up when Draco closed the door and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Draco Malfoy! What brings you here? Is the manor being searched?" he asked, looking vaguely concerned. The face of the other man, which Draco did not recognize, suddenly appeared over the back of the chair closest to Draco when his companion spoke.

"No, Rodolphus," whispered Draco, "I'm here with the aurors--"

"The aurors!" cried Rodolphus in surprise.

"Be _quiet_!" hissed Draco. "The Dark Lord has asked me to work with them. In any case, they're here now, so get together any objects you don't want found and leave!"

"Malfoy…" said the man Draco didn't know thoughtfully, "So you're Lucius's son?"

"Yes," said Draco, not sure what that had to do with anything. The man nodded and turned back around. "Will you two get moving? The aurors will be here any moment," said Draco impatiently as neither of the Death Eaters did anything.

Grudgingly, Rodolphus got up and rolled up his newspaper, which he then tucked into a pocket of his worn-out robe. He grabbed a brown cloth bag in the corner of the room and disapparated without another word. The remaining man grumbled under his breath for a moment before he, too, disapparated.

Draco checked the room over briefly before exiting the way he'd come. He'd just closed the door behind him when an auror appeared in the doorway leading to the outside.

"There's nothing inside;" said Draco quickly, hiding the Dark Mark under the doorknob with his arm, "just some old furniture. Looks as though the house has been abandoned."

The auror nodded and headed back outside without speaking. _Is it in their _training_ to be unfriendly? _Draco wondered while also heaving a sigh of relief that the auror hadn't investigated further.

For the remainder of the hour, Draco searched the field and other buildings with the aurors. At the end, no one had found anything, so they agreed to apparate back to the Ministry. Draco felt a strong pang of guilt as he looked back at the place he knew to be a Death Eater hideout, but that he had hidden from the Ministry to save his own neck. True, the building wouldn't have been of any real value to the Ministry, nor would it be a great loss to the Dark Lord, but how many more times would he have to do this? How much harder would he make finding the Dark Lord's supporters for the Ministry before Voldemort decided that Draco was indeed loyal?

Things were exactly as Draco had feared they would be; he was working for the wrong side, actually _preventing_ the people he believed in from getting anywhere, and all the while, his life was on the line anyway. Draco hated the fact he might die for the Dark Lord's cause, but, as he'd known months ago when he'd had that conversation in the library with Hermione, it was his only choice if he wanted to survive at all.

Draco tried to shake the feeling of guilt as he turned away from the building, but it wouldn't leave him. He stopped trying to get rid of it when he realized it would be constant until either the end of the war or the time Draco switched sides. Neither would happen soon, if at all in Draco's lifetime, so he gave up the battle and disapparated after the others.

…

Hermione did not have to work as hard as she expected to make her boss give her the first of May off. Her boss was a sixty-something ex-healer that had worked at St. Mungo's her whole life and was bitter that medicinal techniques had changed so much since she was trained that she was no longer qualified to work as a healer. Her name was Patricia West, and was usually very disagreeable, but seemed to have a bit of a soft spot for Hermione, which Hermione did not understand in the slightest.

Hermione had tentatively approached Patricia's office a week before the first and knocked on the door wondering how she should phrase her request. "Ms. West?" she called through the door.

"Come in," growled Patricia from the other side.

Hermione entered and saw that perhaps she had not picked the best time; Patricia's desk was littered with empty coffee cups and the woman herself looked as though she hadn't slept in days. Hermione looked at her boss concernedly and earned a rare smile.

"They've put me on extra hours recently;" Patricia explained in her low, worn voice, "security needs have increased with the war and all."

"Mmm," said Hermione, suddenly feeling guilty that she wanted time off when Patricia clearly needed her staff more than ever. "Er, Ms. West, I was wondering…an old professor and friend of mine just died in the attack on Hogsmeade, and I hoped to take the first of May off to go to his funeral…" she said hopefully, "but if you really need me here, I suppose I could--"

"Oh, don't be stupid, child," snapped Patricia, taking a sip of coffee from what must have been her fiftieth cup. At Hermione's taken aback look, she said, "Of course you can go to your friend's funeral. I'll have you trade shifts with someone else."

"Oh, alright, well, thank you, Ms. West," said Hermione, a bit surprised.

Her superior grunted in response and turned her attention to some papers on her messy desk. Hermione, assuming they were finished, left the office quietly and headed off to her place in the main lobby grateful that Patricia had been understanding, even when she herself was obviously being overworked.

Hermione arrived at Hogwarts at quarter to eleven on the first dressed, as were the others around her, entirely in black. She had apparated to Hogsmeade and walked from there, wishing that the castle in the distance was still her home. Harry hadn't told her _where_ on the Hogwarts grounds the service was to take place, but she noticed a small clump of people standing over by the lake and she headed in their direction.

When she got closer, she immediately recognized several members of the Weasley family by their very visible red hair. Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, Bill, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had all managed to attend and she approached them with a smile on her face.

"Hermione!" cried Ron, the first to notice her.

"Hello," she greeted them all, hugging each in turn.

"Oh, Hermione, dear, you look exhausted," fretted Mrs. Weasley, looking at Hermione in concern, "What have they been putting you up to?"

"Well, Ron probably told you I was working with the aurors at first, but I was recently transferred to be a guard at St. Mungo's."

"Did you ask to be transferred? I thought you wanted to work with the aurors," asked Ron curiously.

"I did, but…" said Hermione, wondering how to explain. She didn't particularly feel like telling them all about her strange Death Eater experience, especially with the perpetually worried look on Mrs. Weasley's face, so she said simply, "St. Mungo's wanted a few more guards."

"Oh," said Ron, not asking for details.

Two hooded figures suddenly approached the group of Weasleys and Hermione. Everyone looked at them questioningly, wondering who they were and why they were there. As the pair reached them, the shorter of the two briefly lowered his hood and smiled at them.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, instantly hugging him.

"Shhh," whispered Harry as Hermione pulled away, "no one's supposed to know I'm here." He lifted his hood once more, but looked much less menacing now that they all knew it was him.

"We haven't seen you in months! What have you been doing?" asked Hermione, dropping her voice to a whisper as well.

Harry shrugged and turned to the taller figure beside him, who Hermione immediately realized must be Dumbledore. "We've mostly been dodging Death Eaters, jumping around from place to place. In between I've been studying--learning the most important things we would have if we had continued school, and also a lot of defensive magic."

"Harry, it's so good to see you, I've been so worried," said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes shining with tears.

Harry tried to smile comfortingly. "I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley, don't worry."

A loud voice interrupted the conversation, "If everyone will please sit down; the service will begin shortly!"

Everyone present stopped talking and sat in the rows of seats arranged near the edge of the forest. After a few minutes, a short, thin man stood before the crowd next to a large wooden coffin that obviously held Remus Lupin. The man, who Hermione did not recognize, gave a brief speech about what happened at Hogsmeade and how Lupin had died. He explained that the attack, like all the rest, had been unexpected and that Remus had fought the Death Eaters bravely but that he and the others with him were greatly outnumbered and could not hold off the Death Eaters forever.

When the man had finished, Dumbledore stood and took the man's place. He did not lift his hood, but Hermione had no doubt that everyone there recognized him immediately by his voice as he started his own small speech. "Remus told me more than once that Hogwarts was the only place in the world where he felt at home. Here, he said, was the only place he felt respected…."

At this point Hermione looked over to the chair next to her where Harry had sat a moment before, but which was now empty. She saw him quietly walking down to the shore of the lake, unnoticed by anyone but herself.

She got up and left as inconspicuously as he had, following behind him until he came to a stop by a large rock near the lakes edge, on which he sat. She quietly went over and sat next to him without speaking. She knew that Harry would soon say his thoughts aloud and that her job was to listen, so she waited until he did so. She didn't wait very long.

"So I guess this means the last of my dad's real friends are gone…Sirius, now Lupin, and who really cares what the hell happens to Peter Pettigrew?" Hermione didn't say anything; Harry wasn't really asking her a question. "We're probably lucky, really," he continued, "to have only had one close friend die in the past months. Doesn't make it any easier though…." Hermione shook her head slowly in agreement, resting her head lightly on Harry's shoulder as they both stared out over the glassy water.

"Was Lupin's death in one of your dreams, Harry?" asked Hermione suddenly, "You know, the ones you told me about in January?"

Harry shook his head, "No," he said, "which gives me some hope that you were right; perhaps they only were dreams. I might have thought they were more because I was so worried that what happened in them would happen in real life. So far, none of them have come true, so we can just hope that's the case." He paused, kicking a small rock that was on the ground back and forth between his feet. He stopped after a moment, looking thoughtful. "Hermione, there's something Dumbledore wanted me to ask you. I was going to write you a letter, but it's easier not to have to speak in code, so I may as well ask you now…"

"What is it?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Well, if you would be willing to, Dumbledore says we need another person with us, someone who is able and that we can trust. I thought of you first, but Dumbledore told me to warn you that some of the tasks he may ask you to do will be dangerous, and he wants you to be aware of that before you agree."

"So…he wants me to travel around with you and help where I can?" Hermione clarified.

"Yes, essentially," said Harry, "although the helping you will be doing will be extremely important, and, like I said, probably dangerous." He examined her carefully, trying to tell where she was by her expression, "So, would you be willing to do it?"

Hermione didn't have to think very long before saying, "Yes, of course."

Harry looked relieved and offered a smile. "Great. We'll send you a letter soon with a time for us to come by your apartment and get you." He looked at his watch and stood up. "I need to get back; Dumbledore said we'd need to leave before the burial in Hogsmeade cemetery." He looked gloomy once more at the thought of Lupin and Hermione stood to walk him back to the place of the service.

Harry and Hermione walked in silence and Hermione began to wonder what sorts of jobs Dumbledore would ask her to do. Whatever they were, Hermione was sure that following Harry and Dumbledore around was better for her than her current guarding job, which seemed worse by the day. In addition, Hermione would get to see Harry a lot more and maybe then she'd stop worrying so much about him and what he must be going through.

Maybe finally, after the months that had gone by since the war began, she would be doing something useful, and that thought, more than anything else, had made her readily accept Harry's offer.


	12. Chapter 12

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 12**

Hermione returned to work happier than she'd been in a while. It made her feel guilty that she felt so when a friend had just died, but seeing Harry and Ron again--and then being asked to go with Harry and Dumbledore and leave her boring guarding job behind--had raised her spirits.

Hermione leaned against the wall in the St. Mungo's lobby, lost in her thoughts and staring up at the sky through the glass panes in the ceiling. It was sunny that day, and the bright light made Hermione squint. She imagined that rather than being trapped at St. Mungo's, deliberately deaf to the whines of the patients, she was still at school, that the air outside was warm and that soon whatever class she was in would be over and she and her classmates would sit and talk by the lake, keeping an eye out for the giant squid. Hermione smiled at the thought, momentarily closing her eyes…

A scream shattered Hermione's daydream.

Hermione snapped her eyes open, looking around. Several people were screaming now, and it was apparent why--at least ten hooded people with their wands raised were blocking the entrance to the lobby, and more of them were apparating each second.

Hermione stood, paralyzed in shock until the people--clearly Death Eaters--suddenly started attacking all the healers in the lobby, along with all the patients that got in their way. Hermione was shaken from her horrified trance and she whipped out her wand, stunning any Death Eater she could.

Around her, the other guards were doing the same, but it didn't seem like their spells were doing anything; as soon as one of them stunned a Death Eater, the Death Eater would regain consciousness as one of his or her fellows cast the counter-spell. Some of the Death Eaters were running out of the lobby and up the stairs to the other parts of the hospital. Hermione tore after them, stunning Death Eaters that got in her way.

She took the stairs two at a time, trying to keep up with the Death Eaters ahead of her. "_STUPEFY_!" she cried at a Death Eater opening the door to the second floor.

He or she fell to the ground and another one, up the stairs a way said, "_Enner_--"

"_STUPEFY_!" screamed Hermione, stopping the Death Eater mid-spell.

"_Avada_ _Kedavra_!" called a voice up the stairs and Hermione saw a jet of green light hit the wall before her.

Hermione didn't hesitate to step over the fallen Death Eater and run down the third floor corridor, pushing aside surprised healers and shouting to anyone in sight, "Death Eater attack! All of you hide somewhere and lock the doors to the patients' rooms!"

Most of the healers did as Hermione asked but some panicked and tried to make a run for the stairs. "NO!" screamed Hermione as the stairwell door flew open and two Death Eaters tumbled onto the third floor. Screams erupted once more and Hermione shoved people out of the way and into rooms as she ran back towards the attackers.

"_Stupefy_!" she shouted. The spell whizzed past one of the Death Eater's ears and turned their attention to her.

"_Avada_ _Kedavra_!" he returned, narrowly missing Hermione once more.

Hermione heard another wave of screams from the floor above and threw one last stunning spell at the pair of Death Eaters before disapparating to the third floor. Up there, Hermione saw at least five dead people strewn over the floor and three Death Eaters attempting to break through a locked door.

"_Impedimenta_!" Hermione shouted, aiming her wand at the closest one. The spell hit the surprised Death Eater and he shot sideways into the other two, who fell to the floor in a heap.

Hermione enjoyed the effect of her spell too long; one of the Death Eaters sprang to his feet and cried in fury, "_Crucio_!"

Hermione tried to dodge the curse, but it was well-placed and hit her anyway. Suddenly, she could feel nothing but the most intense pain all over her body. She knew she was screaming in her agony, but didn't care. Then, the spell was lifted and she found herself panting on the floor, tears in her eyes. While she gasped for breath, the three Death Eaters approached her, laughing.

One raised his wand, "_Avada_--"

But Hermione was faster. She pulled her wand out from under her and pointed it at her torturer, "_Avada Kedavra_!" she yelled in rage.

The Death Eater fell, dead, beside her. The other two stared at her in apparent shock before raising their wands simultaneously and opening their mouths to speak. Hermione jumped to her feet and apparated to the fourth floor before they could curse her.

Hermione didn't see anyone for a moment, but then down the hall a ways she saw a Death Eater notice her and then run towards her, she started running in the other direction, throwing stunning spells over her shoulder that apparently missed, as she still heard the Death Eater's heavy footfalls behind her. She was dangerously close to reaching the end of the hallway when she saw two dueling wizards through an open door on her left.

Hermione threw herself through the door just in time to see the hooded wizard throw his opponent against the wall harshly with some sort of jinx. The man, who was not wearing a guard's robe but who looked a bit familiar to Hermione fell to the floor unconscious and the Death Eater turned on her.

Hermione rushed over to her fallen ally, fending off a hex the Death Eater threw at her with a shield charm. Pushing the hair out of his face, Hermione gasped and asked, "_Neville_?"

Neville's eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Hermione dazedly. There was a nasty gash on the back of his head where he had hit the wall and Hermione looked in horror at the blood on the floor beside Neville. Turning angrily to the Death Eater, who had been thrown backwards by Hermione's strong shielding charm. She raised her wand and shouted, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

The Death Eater looked momentarily surprised as the curse hit him squarely in the chest. Hermione started to turn her attention back to Neville when the Death Eater who had chased her down the hall crashed through the door breathing heavily, his wand raised.

Hermione prepared to shield herself once more, but the Death Eater suddenly clutched at his left arm and instantly disapparated, leaving Hermione to stare at where he had been in surprise.

Still looking around suspiciously, Hermione sat next to Neville and quickly examined his wound. Neville was fading in and out of consciousness, and Hermione realized in panic that the color was steadily draining from his face. "It's alright, Neville, hold on, I need to get you a healer," she said quickly, jumping to her feet and calling down the corridor, "I NEED A HEALER! QUICKLY! ROOM 422!"

No one answered her call immediately; the hallway remained deserted. "A HEALER!" screamed Hemrione desperately, starting down the hallway, "NOW! SOMEONE'S INJURED IN ROOM 422!" Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes and her dry throat prevented her from yelling as loud as she wanted to.

Finally, a short woman came running from a room down the hall in the direction of Hermione's shouts.

"Down here!" cried Hermione, relieved, running back to Neville, the healer close behind.

Hermione kneeled beside her former classmate and she whispered as soothingly as she could, "It's okay, Neville, a healer's here, you'll be fine…" Neville didn't move or react in any way to Hermione's words. His eyes were closed, and his face was a sickeningly pale white. "Neville," said Hermione, shaking his shoulder as the healer kneeled beside her, "_Neville_!"

The healer looked sadly over at Hermione, shaking her head. Hermione caught her look and shouted louder than she meant to, "No! You're wrong! He's just been knocked out!" Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she shook Neville again. "Neville! Neville, you'll be okay!" she sobbed.

The truth finally reaching her, Hermione slumped against the wall, crying into her knees.

Neville was dead.

…

Draco didn't find out about the attack on St. Mungo's until he read about it in the _Daily_ _Prophet_ the following morning. He was at his desk early, and thought he'd read the newspaper he'd bought downstairs in the lobby. There, in enormous black type were the words:

DEATH EATER ATTACK AT ST. MUNGO'S KILLS ONE-THIRD OF HEALERS ON STAFF

The article below explained when and how the attack had happened and that in addition to the healers, ten patients and one guard were killed and twenty others were injured. The journalist who had written the article expressed his views that the Death Eaters' target was the healers, and that the other deaths and injuries were merely people who had gotten in the way.

_Guards on duty at the time of the attack claimed that they were outnumbered by at least three to one and that it was only due to the Death Eaters' sudden departure that not more people were killed. Though said guards are only authorized to perform stunning spells on attackers, Hermione Granger, the youngest of the guards, confessed to the murder of two Death Eaters who were recognized as Robert Chesterton and Anthony Hubbard. _

Draco choked on the coffee he'd been drinking at the mention of Hermione and coughed loudly, earning himself concerned looks from his colleagues. He recovered and continued reading…

_Ms. Granger (pictured above, left) was questioned by Ministry officials and Head of Security at St. Mungo's Patricia West after the attack and explained the circumstances in which she had used the Unforgivable Curse. In both cases she admitted to acting in anger, though in the murder of Mr. Chesterton, it was also an act of self-defense. Ms. Granger has been temporarily suspended from her work at St. Mungo's until her hearing on the twelfth of May._

That was all the article said about Hermione, so Draco stopped reading and looked up at her picture at the top of the page. He realized at once why he hadn't immediately recognized her; her hair was frizzier than usual and coming out of the hair tie she'd had it in, her robes were torn in several places along the bottom and at her shoulder, something that looked horribly like blood was smeared on the sleeve of her uniform and her hands, and she looked a mixture of exhausted, furious, and sad. It was clear that she'd been crying and she stood in the St. Mungo's lobby, where the remaining healers were tending to the injured.

All in all, it was the most depressing sight Draco had ever seen in his entire life. Hermione looked sullenly at the camera and every so often shifted her weight from one leg to the other or rubbing her bloodshot eyes with the back of her hand. Draco jerked his eyes from the photo and tossed the _Prophet_ into the nearest trash bin without bothering to read the rest.

Draco felt suddenly furious at many people. First on the list were the Death Eaters that had attacked St. Mungo's the day before. _What kind of sick, evil people kill the healers at a hospital in the middle of a war, when everyone needs medical help more than ever? _Draco thought angrily. _The kind of people you associate with,_ said the cruel side of Draco's brain. _Not by choice, _he argued with himself. Even so, he _was_ a part of this group; he was an ally of those evil people he hated so much.

Next on Draco's hated list were the Ministry officials that were acting as though Hermione had done something unforgivable by trying to protect the healers and patients in the hospital. She was, after all, a guard. Wasn't that her job? And even if it weren't, this was a _war_; people on the opposing side were supposed to die. The Death Eaters certainly didn't have a problem with it. So why was Hermione potentially facing a sentence in Azkaban?

Draco fumed silently some more and finished his cup of coffee. The desks around him started to fill; it was time for him to start another day of helping those he hated so much escape the fate they deserved at the hands of people who _were _authorized to kill them.

…

Hermione sat in her favorite armchair and groaned, frustrated, up at the ceiling. It was the first day of her suspension from work and already, at ten o'clock in the morning, she was tired of sitting around and doing nothing. _Why_ couldn't she just go to work? They were short on staff as it was _without_ sending people home.

Well, she was the only one who'd been sent home, but still, after the attack, weren't they the _slightest_ bit worried they'd be caught unprepared again? Hermione groaned angrily again and closed her eyes.

It was bad enough she had a hearing on the twelfth, but then the _Daily Prophet_ had spread the news that she was a murderer across the entire magical community. It wasn't as if she'd really wanted to kill those people, but stunning wasn't very effective when others just reversed the spell right away. And she'd been angry. That was the part she was upset with herself for. She was a guard and she couldn't control her anger and frustration when she was under pressure.

But there was one bit of information she'd gained from this whole experience: the Ministry didn't expect the people on their side to arrest or kill all the Death Eaters and win the war that way--they expected Harry to duel Voldemort and whoever survived would determine the outcome of the war. The Death Eaters clearly had a different approach, which made Hermione wonder why the Ministry hadn't come up with a new plan.

In the midst of these thoughts, a snowy white owl came in Hermione's window and landed gracefully on the arm of Hermione's chair, startling her considerably. "Hello, Hedwig," said Hermione quietly, recognizing the owl. She took the parchment from Hedwig's outstretched leg and smoothed it out over her knee. Taking another sip of her tea, Hermione read the letter:

_Hermione,_

_I reading the _Prophet _that you are in a bit of trouble with the Ministry over the attack at St. Mungo's. Dumbledore has decided that it would be best for us to get you before your hearing on the twelfth; he is worried that if it doesn't go well, we may not have another opportunity to do so. We will be at your apartment at ten o'clock in the evening on the ninth. You should pack a small bag with anything you need. _

_Since you will not appear at the hearing, the Ministry will probably file you as a missing person. No one will know where you are except for us. Dumbledore wants you to think over your decision carefully before joining us._

_Send your decision with Hedwig--she'll wait until you're ready to reply._

_Harry_

Hermione stood and tossed the letter onto her desk. Dumbledore was clearly under the impression that Hermione would miss her current life if she chose to go with him and Harry, but Hermione had rarely been so sure of her decision in her entire life. She hated everything about how she lived: the boring hours as a guard until the attack during which she had broken the law; the time she spent completely alone when she wasn't at work; the lack of friends; the depression she felt when she realized she wasn't helping in the war effort.

Hermione finally found an old bit of parchment in the bottom drawer of her desk and quickly dipped her quill in the inkwell on her desk. She wrote:

_Harry,_

_I am positive that I want to help you and Dumbledore. I feel absolutely useless and alone here and have no desire to be put in Azkaban for years. I'll expect you at ten on the ninth._

Here Hermione paused, wondering whether to tell Harry about Neville's death in the letter or later in person. She closed her eyes to keep them from watering, as they always did at the thought of Neville. He didn't have to fight the Death Eaters--they weren't after _him_--and yet he had, bravely. If she hadn't panicked, then maybe…

Hermione shook her head furiously at herself. The last thing she needed was to blame herself for Neville's death. She wasn't a healer, she didn't know how to save him, and she had gotten someone who would have been able to as fast as she could.

Despite her reasoning, Hermione felt the tears come anyway, and quickly signed her name at the bottom of her letter before tossing it aside and curling up in her cozy chair, crying quietly as Harry's owl hooted softly at her side.

…

Harry and Dumbledore came, as they had promised, at ten o'clock on the ninth. Hermione had packed her bag earlier in the day and sat silently in her apartment, waiting for them. At ten o'clock precisely, she heard two cracking sounds in the hallway outside her door and was startled out of her thoughts. The sounds were followed by a brief knocking on her front door.

Hermione jumped out of her seat and opened the door, smiling at the sight of the two cloaked figures before her. "Harry!" she said warmly, giving him a hug.

"Hey, Hermione. How have you been?" he sounded concerned.

"I've been alright," said Hermione with a sigh, gesturing for them to enter. They did so and she closed her front door.

"What a terrible incident the attack on St. Mungo's was," commented Dumbledore, noticing the _Daily Prophet _in which Hermione was mentioned on a nearby table. "The loss of the healers was devastating. The hospital is incredibly understaffed now and more patients come every day." Harry and Hermione nodded solemnly. "In addition, you did not come off so well."

Hermione shook her head, unsure whether Dumbledore was going to reprimand her or if he understood.

Dumbledore, seeming to sense her uncertainty, said, "I have never thought of death as a solution, but I do not blame you for what you did, Ms. Granger. I do understand, though I would hope that, given any other alternative, you would not resort to an Unforgivable Curse again."

Hermione nodded and Dumbledore patted her on the shoulder in a kindly manner.

"Now, we should be off. Do you have your belongings together?"

"Yes, sir," said Hermione, grabbing her bag from the kitchen table.

"Excellent." Dumbledore drew his wand and pointed it at a used candle lying on its side, "_Portus_." The candle glowed blue and the three of them leaned forward and touched it together. "Three, two, one," muttered Dumbledore, and on the last count, Hermione felt the old jerking sensation associated with traveling by portkey. Her apartment disappeared and she traveled through blackness briefly before landing hard on her feet outside an old wooden cabin in the middle of what seemed a dense forest.

The trees surrounding them were dark and the only light came from the few stars that sparkled through the treetops. Hermione heard an animal noise in the distance and automatically grabbed Harry's arm. He laughed and followed Dumbledore to the front door of the house, which Dumbledore unlocked with his wand and opened.

The cabin had three rooms: a bathroom, a living room/kitchen, and a bedroom. It was dusty and a bit cramped, but Hermione actually found it rather cozy, especially after Dumbledore lit several candles with his wand and the space was better-lit.

Dumbledore and Harry lowered their hoods for the first time that evening and Hermione noticed how extremely tired both of them looked. It didn't really surprise her, knowing that they must be busy constantly and not have much time to sleep, but it saddened her nonetheless.

"This is the vacation house of my good friend Charles McCoy. He kindly agreed to let us use it for as long as we need," said Dumbledore, opening the two doors leading from the front room and peering inside. "He is a wizard but when he is on vacation, he likes to rest his magical abilities and live like a muggle, which is why this cabin is not charmed to be larger than it appears.

"Since we are short on space, I'm afraid sleeping arrangements are limited." Dumbledore conjured a simple, low bed out of thin air. "One of you may sleep here, the other, on the sofa, which, despite its old appearance, is actually quite comfortable." Harry and Hermione nodded and Hermione suddenly yawned involuntarily in tiredness. Dumbledore smiled and said, "We'll talk in the morning. For now, both of you should get some rest." He opened the door to the lone bedroom and left them.

"Do you want the bed or the sofa?" asked Harry, rubbing his eyes.

Hermione shrugged. "You should have the bed; I'll take my chances with the sofa. You need the sleep more than I do."

Harry smiled and tossed a bag he'd been carrying over his shoulder onto the bed. Hermione sat on the sofa and found that Dumbledore had been correct; it _was_ rather comfortable. She closed her eyes briefly, intending to get up soon and change, but immediately dropped off into a deep sleep, not to be woken for hours.

…

On the thirteenth of May, the news of Hermione's disappearance was everywhere. The entire front page of the _Daily Prophet _was composed of a large picture of Hermione and an article describing how she had failed to show up at her hearing the day before.

Draco walked into the Ministry at the usual time and did a double-take at the sight of Hermione's photo and the headline in bold type above it:

ST. MUNGO'S GUARD CHARGED WITH DEATH EATER MURDERS REPORTED MISSING

An old picture of Hermione, taken before the start of the war, smiled at him in her Hogwarts uniform. Draco bought a paper off the old man selling them and started reading it on the way to his desk.

_Hermione Granger, accused of murdering two Death Eaters during the attack on St. Mungo's, where she worked as a guard, failed to appear at her hearing, which was scheduled to take place yesterday at 9:00 am. After waiting for close to an hour, Ministry officials visited Ms. Granger's London apartment to find it vacant. As Ms. Granger was temporarily suspended from her position at the hospital, no one has seen or heard from her since the day of the attack. She has been classified as a missing person as of this morning…_

Draco skimmed the rest of the article, searching for any clue as to what might have happened to Hermione and found:

…_Several aurors that wish to remain anonymous suggested that perhaps Ms. Granger was taken from her home by Death Eaters who wanted revenge for the death of their associates. Others suspect that she fled for fear of her sentence after the hearing…_

Draco shook his head upon reading this, thinking that neither suspicions were likely to be true. Hermione was not easily frightened; she would never run away from any sentence the Ministry may have given her. In all probability, she would have gotten off, so why make herself look guilty by leaving without telling anyone?

As for being kidnapped by Death Eaters, it was highly unlikely that the Dark Lord would care enough about a couple of lost Death Eaters to go through the trouble of revenge. And if it was revenge, why not just kill her and cast the Dark Mark above, as they did with all the others? It didn't make sense.

What Draco couldn't figure out was what _really_ might have happened. If, as he suspected, the _Prophet_ was wrong in its inferences, what _had_ happened to Hermione? The uncertainty troubled Draco. Where was she? Was she alright? Draco wished more than anything at that moment that he knew.

He looked down at Hermione's happy face and smiled slightly at memories of their brief time together. He then quickly jerked himself back to reality and threw the paper away, not trusting himself to delve any further into those happier times.


	13. Chapter 13

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 13**

Hermione was woken the next morning by bright sunlight streaming in through the window above the sofa onto her face. She groaned softly, turning over and pulling a blanket she didn't remember falling asleep with up to her chin. She was prepared to fall back into her deep, dreamless sleep, but someone shook her shoulder slightly, making Hermione open her eyes once more.

Harry stood above her, already awake and dressed. "Sorry, but Dumbledore says we've got a lot to do today," he explained apologetically.

Hermione nodded sleepily and sat up. She grabbed her unopened bag and headed for the bathroom to get ready. She noticed with disappointment that there was no shower in the tiny room, nor was there a bathtub. She washed her face in the sink and changed, wondering how they were to bathe themselves while they stayed in the cabin.

Hermione emerged from the bathroom to find a plate stacked with toast and a pitcher of orange juice on the house;s only table. Neither Harry nor Dumbledore appeared to be in the cabin, and didn't reply when Hermione called their names, so she shrugged to herself and sat down, helping herself to some breakfast.

Her two companions came in through the front door five minutes later. "What've you been doing?" asked Hermione, setting down the piece of toast she'd been eating.

"Just a brief walk while you were getting ready," said Dumbledore, smiling. "If you've had your fill of toast, I'd like to show you both around the area a bit."

Hermione nodded and stood, following the others out the front door. They walked in silence for bit and eventually Hermione thought she saw a clearing in the trees ahead. As they got closer, Hermione realized that in the middle of the forest was a small lake, its glassy surface reflecting the bright blue sky above.

"Both of you may have noticed earlier that Charles's cabin lacks certain features--a bathtub, for instance." Dumbledore smiled as Harry and Hermione nodded, looking up at him questioningly. "It is good, then, that we have this lovely lake for bathing instead. Do not worry; it is quite warm in summer and as no one ever ventures out here, very clean," he said, noticing the worried expression on the students' faces as the looked towards the lake. "It is also," Dumbledore continued, "an excellent place to practice spells involving the use of water. Freezing charms, for instance," he said, flicking his wand at the lake, which suddenly froze over.

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks that clearly said neither of them planned on using freezing charms in the near future.

Dumbledore flicked his wand at the lake again and started back into the forest. "Remember how to find your way here. Now, please follow me, I must show you the way to the nearest town."

They walked through the forest once more, still silent, and only paused when Dumbledore stopped to mark various trees with thin slashes. He explained when Hermione asked about these that they were arrows which only wizards could see, and that they pointed in the direction of the cabin, should any of them get lost.

"But Professor?" asked Hermione, thinking.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"If wizards can see them, wouldn't that mean Death Eaters that were looking for us could see them?"

Dumbledore nodded somberly, "Yes."

Hermione waited for him to continue, and when he didn't, she prompted, "So then…"

"I will explain later why I am not concerned about Death Eaters finding us," said Dumbledore, continuing to walk.

Hermione knew better than to question him further, so she asked nothing else as they continued their trip. After a while, Hermione looked up from the ground and found that Dumbledore had stopped suddenly before them, standing on the side of a deserted dirt road.

"Up this road not too far," said Dumbledore, gesturing to their left, "is a small town with a few scattered shops and houses, in case I should need either of you to fetch something. We won't venture there now--I would like our presence to go unnoticed for as long as possible." He turned from the road and Hermione took one look around, trying to remember what the place looked like, before following him back into the forest.

"There is something very important I need to discuss with you both," said Dumbledore as they headed back, "and that is how we are to hide ourselves from the rest of the world while Harry completes his training and I figure out various things. This is the reason I asked for you to join us, Ms. Granger," he said, turning to Hermione.

"What is, sir?" asked Hermione anxiously.

Dumbledore hesitated, as if still deciding whether or not to do what he had panned to. After a pause he asked, "Would you be willing to be our secret-keeper for the time we stay here?"

Hermione was a little startled by the question. Clearly this was the important and dangerous job Harry had told her she might be asked to do, though by the look on Harry's face she could tell that this was the first he had heard of her playing the role of secret-keeper for them. It wasn't exactly as though she could back out now, and she didn't really want to, so she replied hesitantly, "Yes."

Dumbledore smiled encouragingly at her and held open the door of the cabin as she and Harry stepped inside. "That's excellent," he said, sitting at the table with the two students, "in that case, we will hopefully perform the charm this evening, after I have told you some things, for it is very complex magic. I do not want you to be discouraged if we do not manage to complete it on the first attempt." Hermione nodded and Dumbledore put the tips of his fingers together characteristically before continuing.

"For safety reasons, it would be best for you to be with one of us or in the cabin at all times." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I do not know how long we will be here, or whether Voldemort will discover anything about our whereabouts during that time. Whether it will be possible to discuss…" Dumbledore's voice trailed off and he seemed to be a bit lost in his thoughts. He shook himself out of it and stood, looking at Harry and Hermione. "Well, there's no more need for talk just yet. Hermione, I would like you to read chapter three of this book," he disappeared momentarily into the bedroom and reappeared with a tattered old book entitled _Hiding the Secret: Mastering the Difficulties of Secret-Keeping_, which he handed to Hermione. "Harry, have you learned that Reflecting Charm I showed you the other day?"

"Er…not quite there, yet, sir," said Harry with an expression Hermione recognized from the days at Hogwarts when he'd forgotten to finish his homework.

"Work a bit on that. When Hermione finishes reading that section, perhaps she can help you." Dumbledore pulled his black traveling cloak over his head and shoulders and added, "I'll be back in the early afternoon," before leaving the cabin and disapparating.

"Does he leave you alone a lot?" Hermione asked Harry as Dumbledore disappeared.

Harry shrugged. "Sometimes. He doesn't like to, though. I think he's glad you're here now so I'm not entirely on my own."

"What does he do when he leaves?" asked Hermione curiously, flipping to the table of contents in the book she held.

Harry scratched the back of his head in thought and said, "Well, on the times he took me with him, he just met with people, asking them stuff, I guess…"

"What does he ask?" Hermione pressed, too interested to hold back.

"I don't know," said Harry honestly. Hermione looked a bit disappointed. "I usually just waited outside or sat in a corner. He hasn't told me anything about them, though, so I don't think he wants me to know yet."

Hermione nodded and looked down at the page of the book marked Chapter Three. She read the entire section fairly quickly, though it was long, and closed the book in her lap, thinking. The spell used to hide a place and whoever happened to be inside of it sounded, as Dumbledore had said, very difficult. Hermione herself was the only one who could perform the spell, as she was to be the secret-keeper, and so Dumbledore would not be able to help her that evening when she tried it.

Standing, Hermione opened the book once more and turned to a page with a small diagram showing a wizard casting a dome-like shape over a house with his wand. According to the book, an unnatural circular motion was required to create this dome, which was only the first part of the spell. Hermione practiced the wand motions for a few minutes before deciding to find Harry and help him with his reflecting charm until Dumbledore returned.

"Harry?" called Hermione once she was out of the cabin. No one replied, so she walked in the direction of the lake they had visited earlier. "Harry? Where are you?"

"Over here, Hermione," said Harry's voice, though Hermione couldn't see him. She stepped closer to the shore of the lake and finally saw him, sitting with his wand out on the grassy bank below her.

"Any luck with that charm yet?" she asked, walking to where he was and sitting beside him.

Harry shook his head but then said, "Well, I can't really tell, because no one's actually casting a spell at me."

"I could help you there," offered Hermione.

"You finish reading that chapter?"

Hermione nodded. "There's really not that much I can do to prepare, though, so I'm free to help you if you'd like."

"Yeah, that'd be great," said Harry, standing and dusting his robes off.

Hermione spent the rest of the morning and some of the early afternoon casting various jinxes and hexes at Harry, who managed to reflect only some of them back at her effectively. It reminded Hermione of the time she and Ron had spent preparing Harry for the final task of the Triwizard tournament, and she rather enjoyed it. By the time Dumbledore reappeared, Harry had nearly mastered the spell and Hermione couldn't help feeling a bit more confident and hopeful all the while that Harry would indeed defeat Voldemort.

…

It was two weeks after he had read the news of Hermione's disappearance and Draco sighed inwardly as Sean Miller told him they were to investigate an abandoned shack near the Atlantic coast to the northeast. He knew the place; he'd been there before for various meetings. Most of the time no one lived there, but the old house served as the perfect spot to brew very time-consuming potions due to its isolation.

Apparating with only Sean and two others--the number of aurors had been steadily decreasing since the start of the war--Draco soon found himself some twenty feet from a rotting wooden shack not far from a steep coastal cliff. The wind was blowing fiercely off the great expanse of grey sea and Draco heard the thunderous crashed of waves hundreds of feet below them where the rocky shore met the water.

"Draco and I will take a look inside, will you two search around out here?" Sean said, taking charge. The others nodded silently and set off in opposite directions, wands drawn. "Come on," said Sean, stepping towards the beat-up old shack and gesturing for Draco to follow.

Draco wrapped his cloak tighter against the bite of the wind and followed his colleague, trying to formulate a plan in his mind. He had to see the inside of the house before Sean did and chase off any unsuspecting Death Eaters that might be there. Picking up his pace, he tried to get past Sean and reach the door first, but he failed.

Sean reached for the doorknob of the broken-down place and pushed lightly. When nothing happened, he drew his wand and tried several unlocking spells, none of which worked. "There must be some sort of magical lock on it," said Sean, looking a bit puzzled, "what do you suggest?"

Draco had noticed the small Dark Mark burned into the wood beneath the doorknob a few minutes earlier, but obviously hadn't pointed it out. Trying to look as perplexed as his companion, Draco put his hand on the doorknob and in doing so casually rested the tip of his wand on the Mark. Blocking the door from Sean's view with his back, Draco waited for the Mark to glow green before pushing the door open.

"How'd you do that?" asked Sean as the door swung open.

Draco shrugged noncommittally and entered the house slowly, checking quickly for signs of another Death Eater. A short, chubby man dressed in grey robes was leaning over what looked like a cauldron. As the front door squeaked open, the man turned around and smiled in relief at the sight of Draco.

"Oh, Malfoy, it's just you…" the man, who Draco recognized but did not remember the name of, stopped speaking as Draco out a finger to his lips and shook his head.

Draco tried gesturing wildly to the man to leave without actually saying anything, but the man was too thick to catch on.

"What're you doing? Is someone there?" asked Sean, pushing past Draco. At the sight of the Death Eater standing over the steaming cauldron, he raised his wand. "Who are you?"

"Who are _you_?" asked the small wizard, also drawing his wand. "Draco, is he with us?"

To Draco, the entire situation was an absolute nightmare. He thought quickly about what to do, stammering, "I…well…"

"Is he a Death Eater, too?" asked the man impatiently, glaring suspiciously at Sean.

At these words, Sean quickly flicked his wand at the stranger, "_Stupi--"_

"_Proteti!_" shouted Draco on impulse, shielding the short Death Eater from the spell. "Get out of here!" he yelled at the man, who looked thoroughly confused but disappeared with a pop a split second later.

Sean, looking both shocked and outraged, turned on Draco. "You're a Death Eater?" he asked, disgusted, "You've been working _against_ us all this time?"

Draco opened his mouth to explain, but no reasonable-sounding lie came to him. He was trapped. He was going to be sent to Azkaban for something he'd never wanted to do…. Panicking, Draco whipped his wand up once more and said, "_Oblivi--_"

But Sean caught on quickly and muttered, "_Protego!_" Draco's spell bounced uselessly off the invisible shield. "_Expelliarmus!_" cried Sean before Draco could re-attempt the memory charm. Draco's wand hit the opposite wall and fell to the floor. Draco tried to dive past Sean to get it, but the auror grabbed a firm hold of Draco's left arm as he passed, jerking him back.

Pulling quickly on the sleeve of Draco's robe before he could react, Sean's eyes widened at the sight of the Dark Mark on his supposed coworker's forearm.

Realizing that all hope of keeping his position at the Ministry after this incident was gone, Draco swung his unbound arm around and hit Sean forcefully in the side of the head. Sean shouted in pain and fell to the floor clutching his head. Draco snatched up his wand and without further hesitation, disapparated.

…

It was the early evening, and the sky was fading quickly from orange to twilight blue as the sun set. Hermione stood before the cabin, Dumbledore's book on secret-keepers in hand, biting her lip in anxiety as she reviewed the more complicated aspects of the spell she was to perform momentarily.

"Do you have any questions, Ms. Granger?" asked Dumbledore calmly, emerging from the cabin with Harry in tow.

Hermione jumped slightly at the disturbance of her reading and shook her head. "No, I think I understand, sir."

"Whenever you are ready, then," said Dumbledore, stepping off to the side and out of her way with Harry.

Hermione closed _Hiding the Secret_ and took a deep breath, raising her wand. She cleared her mind of everything except the image of the house before her and did the complicated motion with her arm that she'd practiced earlier, muttering the incantation under her breath. When she finished the first part of the spell, she was relieved to see a transparent green dome covering the cabin, illuminating the forest around them with an eerie green glow.

Dumbledore smiled encouragingly at her and Hermione closed her eyes, focusing very hard, as the book had told her, on mentally shrinking the dome she'd created. Though she didn't open her eyes in her deep concentration, Hermione knew that the space between the wooden logs of the house and the magical enclosure was closing every passing second.

Wondering how much time had passed and when she would need to do the final step of the spell, Hermione's wand suddenly started to shake violently in her sweaty hand. Realizing this was the sign the book had described, she raised her wand as best she could against the resistance she felt and brought it quickly down, gasping, "_Fidelius!_"

Hermione opened her eyes just in time to see the green layer tightly enclosing the house disappear with a deafening crack. A silent moment passed in which Hermione stared at the small cabin, which looked, to her, exactly the same. Thinking the spell hadn't worked, she collapsed into an exhausted heap on the forest floor, muttering to herself in frustration.

She heard Dumbledore and Harry approach her and looked up when one of them tapped her on the shoulder. She looked confusedly from Dumbledore's proud smile to Harry's expression of awe. "Will I have to do it again tonight, Professor?" she asked wearily.

"Again?" asked Dumbledore, amused.

"Hermione, it worked! The cabin's disappeared," explained Harry.

"But…" Hermione looked back over at the cabin, which, to her, was very present. "It's gone?"

Harry nodded. To demonstrate the point, he stepped over to what appeared to him to be an empty space. Hermione watched in surprise as her friend walked through a wall in the cabin apparently without noticing.

"Oh," she said, "well, what do I say?" she asked, turning to Dumbledore.

"Perhaps allowing us to use the cabin freely is a start."

"Alright, well, you and Harry may use this cabin for whatever you want for as long as you need," said Hermione, feeling a bit foolish telling Dumbledore that he could use his own friend's house.

"Ah, excellent," said Dumbledore, squinting in the direction of the cabin. He patted Hermione comfortingly on the shoulder, "Wonderful job, Ms. Granger."

Hermione, still a bit dazed from the whole experience, followed the headmaster and Harry into the cabin. Sitting at the table with them, she pocketed her wand and yawned widely.

"Now that we are magically hidden from the rest of the world, we are safer to a certain extent," said Dumbledore. "However, for extra precaution, I would ask that whenever either of you need to go into town or even down to the lake that you use Harry's invisibility cloak as much as possible. Leave only when necessary or when I ask you to. Harry, will you get your cloak?"

Harry went over to his bag and pulled the invisibility cloak from inside of it. Dumbledore gestured to a coat hanger by the front door and Harry hung the cloak on it before sitting down on his bed.

"That's quite enough for today, then. You two are free to rest until tomorrow." The bedroom door closed behind him and Hermione stood slowly and headed for the sofa.

After changing and brushing her teeth in the bathroom, Hermione collapsed onto her makeshift bed and drifted off into peaceful, dreamless sleep.

…

Hermione had been their secret-keeper for several weeks the morning she woke up and sat at the kitchen table with her toast breakfast as usual, noticing the large pile of old _Daily Prophet_'s on the fourth, unused chair at the table. She took the top newspaper off the pile--that day's--and started reading the front page as she took another sip of her orange juice. Deciding that there was nothing interesting in that copy, she tossed the paper aside and reached for the next one.

Glancing at the front page, Hermione suddenly choked on the toast she'd been nibbling away at and spluttered for a minute or so, trying to catch her breath. Recovering, she pulled the newspaper closer to her, a picture of an unhappy-looking Draco Malfoy blinking up at her from the page. The headline read:

MINISTRY WORKER DISCOVERED AS DEATH EATER

_Draco Malfoy, hired as an assistant in Auror Headquarters in April, was discovered yesterday to be in service to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named while investigating Death Eater hideout reports with three aurors. Sean Miller, who found the Dark Mark on the Ministry employee's arm while fighting Mr. Malfoy, admits that when he was first hired, several aurors raised their eyebrows at the admission of a Malfoy to their department. _

"_But over the weeks he worked with us," said Miller, "Draco never did anything to make us suspect him. It was only yesterday, after he helped a Death Eater escape during the investigation, that I realized his loyalty wasn't with us. He may have been misleading us for months; now it's too late to tell."_

_Gloria Stone, who was responsible for hiring Malfoy, was fired yesterday afternoon after the Death Eater's escape. A thorough investigation of all other Ministry employees has begun due to this incident, and the Ministry assures…_

Hermione stopped reading and threw the paper aside, taking a deep breath. Fighting off the strange suffocating feeling she hadn't felt since she'd nearly run into Draco in April, Hermione closed her eyes and rested her hand in her hands.

Harry walked in the front door unnoticed by Hermione, who Harry could tell was upset about something. "Are you alright?" he asked, looking at her in concern.

Hermione jerked her head up and wiped her eyes quickly before looking at him. "'Morning, Harry," she said, "I'm fine, I just…" she shook her head at herself and returned to her breakfast.

Harry shrugged and headed over to his bed, where he opened his bag and rummaged around for something in it. "Did you see that thing about Malfoy?" he asked, now emptying the contents of his bag. Hermione visibly stiffened, though Harry didn't notice. "Can't say I'm really surprised…"

"Mmmm," said Hermione, pretending not to really hear him.

"Well, anyway," said Harry, throwing all of his clothes back into his bag, "I'm going to wash some of my stuff at the lake while Dumbledore's out." He took his cloak from its hanger near the door, "You want to come?"

Hermione looked guiltily at the pile of dirty clothes gathered on one side of the sofa. "Maybe a bit later," she said noncommittally, wanting a bit of time to herself.

"See you, then," said Harry, throwing the invisibility cloak over himself and leaving the cabin.

Hermione watched the door close behind him and sighed, looking involuntarily at the picture of Draco on the copy of the _Prophet_ she'd been reading. Feeling tears well up in her eyes at the sight of him looking so utterly miserable, she forced herself to look away and shove the paper further from her.

Not feeling particularly hungry anymore, Hermione put her plate and glass in the sink and flicked her wand at them so that they began to clean themselves. Flopping down onto what she had come to know as her sofa, she looked up through the nearby window and hoped silently that wherever he was, whatever he was made to do, Draco would be alright.

…

**Author's Note: **Unfortunately, school has started for me, so I will not be able to update as regularly as I have over the summer. However, I feel the need to press that **reviews will encourage me to write more frequently **(only two on chapter 12? Come on…) Thank you for reading, and I really am sorry about this.


	14. Chapter 14

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 14**

"I'm sorry, father, it was unavoidable." Draco sat in his father's study once more, getting angrier by the second as Lucius failed to grasp how Draco had been discovered as a Death Eater.

"_Unavoidable?_" spat Lucius, enraged. "You were the Dark Lord's only link to the Ministry! Do _you_ know how much longer the war will last? No, none of us do, and thanks to you and your 'unavoidable' incident, we have no defense against the Ministry!"

"I must have told you a hundred times," said Draco, his voice rising, "there was nothing I could do! Would you rather have me in Azkaban, rotting away until the end of the war? I'm sure that can be arranged all too easily!"

"No, Draco," said Lucius, calming down slightly, "we cannot afford to lose any more to Azkaban."

_Heartless bastard,_ thought Draco, glaring at his father, _he doesn't even care that it's his only son that would be locked up; he's only worried the Dark Lord will be one man short._

Lucius seemed to think for a minute, playing with a roll of parchment on his desk. "I hope you can make up your mistake with your new orders, Draco," he said, holding up the scroll, "but before I give them to you, the Dark Lord has asked me to explain some things." He took a deep breath and continued, "Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore have seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth. We are under the impression that they are being hidden by the Fidelius charm near the muggle town of Lake Forest, which is north of here.

"This information we received from several letters we think passed between Charles McCoy and Albus Dumbledore. The letters, which we found during a search of McCoy's house, were unsigned, however, so we do not know if Dumbledore was indeed the correspondent. In any case, a search of the woods near Lake Forest has revealed that McCoy's cabin has disappeared, a possible sign of the use of the Fidelius charm."

"But then who is their secret-keeper?" Draco asked, interrupting his father's long and seemingly unnecessary explanation.

"Do not interrupt," said Lucius firmly, "I was getting to that. In mid-May, you may remember hearing something about the disappearance of an old schoolmate, Hermione Granger? Well, earlier this year, we took an auror captive, hoping to find out the plans of the Ministry using Veritaserum. We were disappointed in this respect, but found some other _very _interesting things in the process." Draco did not like the look his father was giving him as he spoke. Draco shifted slightly in his seat as Lucius continued, "This person, who we discovered with the truth potion was Hermione Granger, is a very close friend of Harry Potter. A close enough friend that he would trust her to be his and Dumbledore's secret-keeper.

"It just so happens that the time of Ms. Granger's disappearance is a little after the last letter Dumbledore sent to Charles McCoy about the use of his cabin."

_So where's my part in this? _wondered Draco apprehensively, his heart beating slightly faster than usual.

As if reading his mind, Lucius explained, "There was something else Ms. Granger said that, strangely enough, involves you. When asked if she knew the names of any Death Eaters or where they were, she said your name, and that she knew you had come here at the start of the war." Lucius stared unwaveringly at his son, searching for something in Draco's eyes. "That's not all she said, either. When she was questioned further, it became clear that Ms. Granger was under the impression that you and she had become…_friendly_. Apparently, she also read some of the letters I sent you. What do you think of all this, Draco?"

Draco was fighting the feeling of panic that was spreading rapidly through him. He searched his mind frantically for a suitable explanation. Lucius's piercing gaze was still on him, and he tried desperately not to look guilty as he thought up some excuse. "Well, like you said, Granger is a close friend of Potter's. I merely thought having her on my side might prove useful for the war," he said quickly, his hand on his wand in case his father didn't believe this.

Lucius's pause made Draco anxious, and he remained perfectly still as he waited for some sort of angry explosion from the man across from him. To Draco's surprise, Lucius smiled, "You were right in thinking so, Draco, and since you have put yourself in such a favorable position, your next assignment should be relatively simple." He handed Draco the scroll in his hand and Draco stood to get it.

"Be careful, Draco, this is important," said Lucius as his son headed for the door.

Draco merely nodded, looking worriedly at the orders in his hand as he left the study.

…

Hermione walked quietly through the forest on a particularly warm afternoon under the cover of Harry's invisibility cloak. She was headed for the lake in hopes of cooling off in the pleasant water, as she had nothing she absolutely had to do. Dumbledore was out yet again and Harry was taking a nap, having exhausted himself that morning trying to master a particularly difficult hex. Hermione noticed as she neared the shore of the lake that several trees looked a little worse for wear, Harry having practiced on them.

Looking around carefully to be sure no one else was there, Hermione was happy to finally take off the heavy cloak. She set it at the base of a tree and waded into the refreshing water, sighing contentedly at the picturesque scene around her.

The trees rustled slightly in the breeze as Hermione floated peacefully, her eyes closed. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, she was relaxed. Voldemort hadn't yet discovered their hiding place, Harry was steadily preparing himself for his duel with Voldemort and was doing very well, no one she knew had died recently, she wasn't being punished by the Ministry…things were far better now than they were even a month ago.

Hermione suddenly felt the creepy sensation that someone was watching her. She opened her eyes, standing on the shallow bottom of the lake and looking around. She didn't see anyone, but sank lower in the water so that only the top half of her head was above the surface. The forest suddenly seemed eerily quiet…Hermione wondered if she was just being paranoid. Her heart started to beat a little faster in anxiety as she walked back to the shore.

A cry of surprise startled her and she jerked her head to look at the opposite side of the lake, where she saw a black-cloaked figure quickly slip behind a tree. Not waiting to find out who the person was, Hermione sprinted to where she'd left the invisibility cloak and slid it over herself without hesitation. She ran as fast as she could back in the direction of the cabin, her heart beating quickly in both fear and strain.

It didn't seem as though anyone was pursuing her, but Hermione didn't take any chances, stopping only when she reached the door of the cabin and threw herself inside it.

She was still panting, her hands on her knees when she heard Harry ask sleepily, "Hermione? Is that you?" Realizing she was still wearing the invisibility cloak, Hermione slipped it off and hung it on its hook, still visibly shaken. "What's wrong?" Harry asked, leaping off his bed at once and stepping over to her.

Hermione muttered a drying charm, as she was still wet from the lake, and took a deep breath, calming herself before answering, "I think a Death Eater saw me at the lake." At Harry's inquisitive look, she continued, "I went there to take a swim and then there was this noise and I looked around and it looked for all the world like a Death Eater. I panicked and just ran back here as fast as I could, I just got scared…."

Harry looked a little worried, but comforted Hermione all the same, "That's alright; it's good you got back safely." He thought for a moment, looking unseeingly out one of the windows. "Are you sure it was a Death Eater?" he asked finally.

"Well, no, but _no one_ is supposed to know we're here."

"What did the person look like?" Harry pressed.

"It was across the lake, but I think he--or she, maybe--was wearing a long black cloak, and I couldn't see the face," Hermione replied as best she could.

Harry nodded, glancing at his watch. "I think Dumbledore will be back soon; we can see if he thinks there's anything to worry about. I doubt there is…I mean, we're protected by the Fidelius charm, right?" Despite his words, he seemed a bit anxious.

"Yes…but we're not protected by the charm when we leave," Hermione pointed out, collapsing onto the sofa.

"Clearly," said Harry, sitting at one of the chairs at the table.

The front door squeaked and in walked Dumbledore, his large hood shadowing his face. He closed the door behind him and lowered his hood, smiling wearily at the two of them. At the troubled looks on their faces, he said concernedly, "Something happened while I was away?"

Hermione nodded and immediately relayed what had happened at the lake to Dumbledore, who listened intently. "…I ran back here because I didn't know what else to do. I don't think whoever it was followed me, though," finished Hermione, leaning back into the sofa. She waited tensely for him to say something, to tell her they would have to leave, that she had been careless, that this was what he'd hoped wouldn't happen…

But Dumbledore said none of these things. He stood silently for what seemed to Hermione like an hour before saying, "I must admit I expected they might find us soon." At Harry and Hermione's puzzled looks, he sighed and said, "There is some bad news I discovered today. Please sit at the table."

Hermione got up from the sofa and did as Dumbledore asked. When he himself sat, he explained, "I told you when we arrived here that this cabin belonged to a friend of mine, Charles McCoy. I went to see him today, and was greeted most unpleasantly with a deserted house that looked as though it had been thoroughly searched. I feared the worse, so I went to the Ministry in hopes of finding some record of what had happened to him and his house.

"A copy of the _Daily Prophet_ had a brief article about Charles. It explained that he had been killed by Death Eaters when they invaded his home for an unknown reason." He paused, looking sadly down at his intertwined fingers, "The Dark Mark was cast overhead and the Death Eaters disappeared before the Ministry ever got there.

"I returned to the house and found his desk torn apart, parchment of various kinds everywhere. What I did not find, I fear, are the number of letters that I sent to him when we spoke of his lending me this cabin. I think it is safe to assume that the Death Eaters discovered what they were and have used them to find where we are." He paused again, looking intently over Hermione's head at something apparently on the ceiling.

A moment passed in which no one said anything at all, until Dumbledore recovered from his trance and said, looking fixedly at Hermione, "I need you to return to the lake in a few minutes, Ms. Granger."

"Alright," said Hermione, a little surprised, but she stood and reached for the invisibility cloak anyway.

"You will not be needing the cloak," said Dumbledore calmly.

Hermione lowered her arm and looked at him in question. "But…after today, wouldn't it be safer…?" she asked hesitantly, confused.

"No, I don't think it will be necessary," said Dumbledore, shaking his head. "There is, however, one thing I must ask you to remember before you leave: the duel between Harry and Lord Voldemort will take place at Hogwarts, and no sooner than September."

At this apparently random bit of information, Hermione could not hide her utter confusion. She couldn't even form words to ask what on earth he meant by that, but the Headmaster gestured to the door and as she opened it and stepped through, she could have sworn he said quietly, "Good luck."

…

Draco kicked the side of his bed in frustration as flames incinerated the parchment on his window. His newest orders were still fresh in his mind and every thought of them pushed him to the edges of insanity as he tried unsuccessfully to figure a way out of this.

He had been instructed to use his relationship with Hermione to get her to tell him where Potter and Dumbledore were staying. This would seem easy enough to the Dark Lord and Lucius, both of whom thought the relationship he had with Hermione was one-sided and meant nothing to him. As simple as it would make things if this were true, it wasn't, and his orders left Draco in a terrible position.

Throwing his black cloak over himself moodily, he took one look out his window before apparating to the place indicated on the parchment that was now a small pile of ashes on the sill.

Draco arrived in the midst of a dense forest seconds later. The bright sunlight streamed through gaps in the treetops and showed him the way to a clearing ahead. Not really knowing what he was going to do or what he was supposed to be looking for, Draco stepped slowly towards the clearing.

The clearing turned out to be a crystal-clear, glimmering lake that seemed a bit out of place surrounded by the huge trees that lined the shore. _I should have guessed it was called Lake Forest for a reason_, Draco thought to himself, looking out over the glassy water. A ripple disrupted the peaceful surface and he looked around for the source.

A person waded into the water from the opposing shore and Draco instinctively hid himself behind a large tree. Peering cautiously around the trunk, he squinted at the figure, trying to see him or her more clearly in the bright glare of the sunlight. He realized with a jolt when the person turned around that it was Hermione.

She was wearing a long tee-shirt in place of a swimsuit--Draco suspected she hadn't remembered one when she ran away--and as she swam slowly back and forth, she looked so…peaceful. Draco stood rooted to the spot, entranced, as Hermione stopped moving and just floated calmly at the surface. Moments passed and Draco inched forward, longing to call her to him; to wrap her in a tight embrace and forget that the past months had existed; to wake up in the tower and find that everything that had happened since was just a nightmare….

Hermione suddenly opened her eyes and stiffened. Draco froze. She sank low in the water so that only the top of her head was visible and slowly moved towards the shore. She was looking around suspiciously, and Draco tried to step out of sight, but slipped on a rock, losing his footing and crying out involuntarily in his surprise.

Throwing himself behind the nearest tree, he heard Hermione's splashes as she ran the last few feet to the shore. When he finally got up the courage to look again, she had disappeared.

Draco sighed and slid down the trunk to a sitting position. _That went well_, thought Draco sarcastically to himself, picking up a twig and fidgeting absentmindedly with it. Now that probably Hermione, Harry, _and _Dumbledore knew that Death Eaters had discovered their hideout, the three of them would probably lock themselves up in the safety of their cabin for months.

Draco would have thought this best were it not for the fact that he was supposed to be persuading Hermione to tell him where she, Harry, and Dumbledore were hiding. He supposed he could run away, but that would be of little use, considering everyone on both sides of the war would want him dead or at least locked up. If he could find Hermione again, maybe he could ask to stay with them, but that wouldn't go over so well with the Dark Lord…or with Harry, for that matter.

Draco spent close to an hour thinking of possibilities and immediately discarding them, realizing they were stupid, if not impossible. He groaned in frustration, tossing the stick he'd been playing with aside. What was he going to do? He was playing with the idea of drowning in the lake when he heard light footsteps to his right somewhere.

Pulling his masked hood over his head despite the heat, Draco stood and waited for someone to appear. He drew his wand for good measure as the sound of crinkling leaves drew nearer.

A scared-looking Hermione appeared from the edge of the lake and stepped carefully over the root of a large tree. Draco instinctively lowered his wand and watched as she gasped softly, finally seeing him.

The Death Eater's mask hid Draco's face and Hermione did not recognize him. Standing up a little taller and trying to look more confident than she clearly felt, she took a step closer to him but said nothing.

Draco did not act for a moment, overly tempted to remove his hood and tell her she shouldn't be scared of him. This, however, was not an option; there was no need for him to complicate things further in their already difficult situation. The two stood rigidly, staring at each other for a long time until Draco finally cleared his throat, preparing to speak, but Hermione broke in first, "I know what you're doing here, and I've come to negotiate with you."

Draco was confused. What did she mean by "negotiate?" Seeing as she had no idea who he was, what made her think he wouldn't just attack her, all _negotiating_ aside? But Hermione answered this almost as soon as Draco thought it, "You can't do anything to me; you know I'm the only one who can tell you where they are." There was no need to explain who "they" were--it was clearly Harry and Dumbledore she was talking about. She had raised a fair point in that he couldn't hurt her, but Draco hadn't intended to do that in the first place.

_So now what?_ Draco asked himself as Hermione waited for a response, _What am I supposed to do now? I can't really speak for the Dark Lord…so should I bring her to him? _The idea didn't make Draco happy, as he wasn't sure what Voldemort would do to pry the secret of Harry and Dumbledore's hideout from Hermione. The Dark Lord did not negotiate well. What alternative did Draco have, though?

Trying to alter his voice so that she wouldn't recognize it, he said, "The Dark Lord will speak with you, but he won't come here. We need to apparate to where he is." Fear flashed briefly across Hermione's face and Draco knew that she did not want to leave the forest.

"Alright," said Hermione with forced calm, "Where exactly is that?"

"I can't tell you."

Now Hermione just looked irritated. "How am I supposed to apparate there, then?"

"I'll take you," Draco stepped forward and placed a hand on Hermione's elbow. Hermione looked suspiciously up at him, her right hand tightly clenching her wand. "One…two…," said Draco softly, trying to ignore the fact that they hadn't been this close since their goodbye in February, "three."

The two disappeared with a small popping noise and reappeared almost instantly at the Malfoy manor. In truth, Draco had no idea if the Dark Lord would be there--in fact, he highly doubted it--but he had no other ideas of where to start. Hermione looked up in apparent awe at the enormous stone house, though she obviously had no idea what it was. Draco let go of her elbow and gestured for her to follow him.

Hermione hesitated slightly before stepping after her unknown companion, wishing with all she had that she didn't have to do this…but Dumbledore had wanted her to, she was almost positive of that.

When she had first left the cabin earlier, she didn't have the faintest idea what Dumbledore wanted from her, why he was sending her out on her own with no real means of protection. As she walked to the lake, however, she began to realize that there was a reason Dumbledore had made her leave the invisibility cloak behind and told her his wish that the final duel take place in September--she was meant to be caught, and meant to make sure that what Dumbledore wanted would indeed happen. With more thought, she figured out that she was the only one who could do the bargaining; she was the only one the Death Eaters couldn't kill.

These thoughts hadn't inspired as much confidence in Hermione as she might have hoped. However, she knew what she was supposed to do now, and she would do her best to go through with it.

The two walked up a short flight of stone steps and entered the mansion through an old wooden door that Draco held open to allow Hermione through. The inside was dim, lit only by a few hovering candles that drifted aimlessly through the corridor. Draco headed immediately for his father's study, intending to get from him some hint as to where the Dark Lord might be.

The walk was silent; all that either heard was the sound of their footsteps against the stone floor. It seemed unnaturally awkward to Draco, who was dying to speak, but just finel to Hermione, who thought her companion was a complete stranger.

They finally reached the dark wooden door to Lucius's study and Draco raised his fist to knock twice, just as he always had, but the sound of voices made him hesitate. Pressing his ear closer to the door, he tried to figure out who else was in the study. He saw the confused expression on Hermione's face out of the corner of his eye.

Hermione, who thought the Death Eater's behavior was somewhat strange, opened her mouth to speak when he put a finger to his mask--obviously where his mouth would normally be--indicating that she should remain silent. She did so, watching suspiciously as Draco strained to hear the voice of the man speaking quietly with his father.

A moment later, Draco realized that the cold voice could belong to no one but the Dark Lord and stopped leaning against the door. Hermione was staring at him curiously and Draco felt that were she not scared out of her mind, she would have raised an eyebrow at him. "He's in here," said Draco, gesturing to the door.

Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath to try and calm her abnormally fast heartbeat. She waited for him to open the door, but Draco didn't move. His mind was quickly trying to find any alternative to what he now saw as handing Hermione over to Voldemort. _Why couldn't Dumbledore do the negotiating?_ thought Draco, a little angrily, _He's the one that needs to communicate with the Dark Lord….Voldemort's not scared of Hermione…. _But Dumbledore was not there to take this responsibility, and Hermione would never run away from it and leave him and Harry to fend for themselves.

So, with a strong sense of foreboding and an inward sigh, Draco knocked twice on the study door. The voices stopped. "Come in," said Lucius, knowing who it was without asking.

Draco turned the knob and entered the room, seeing the Dark Lord turn his head slightly to see him. Ignoring his father, Draco said, "I have brought Hermione Granger, my Lord; she wants to speak with you." He stepped back to let her in.

"Ah," said Voldemort as Hermione entered. "Dumbledore has sent you, hasn't he?" Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "I expected as much," he said, standing and walking over to her.

It was all Hermione could do not to scream and sprint from the room as the wizard everyone in the entire magical community feared stepped closer to her. Grasping her wand firmly in her shaking hand, she said, quite steadily despite her nerves, "I'm here to talk about the final duel."

Voldemort pressed his hands together beneath his chin. "And I expect that when we have agreed on that, you will tell me where they are hiding?"

Hermione blinked, thinking. Would she tell him? No, she couldn't, the cabin was the only place they were safe…but then what did she have to bargain with?

The Dark Lord smiled at her hesitation. "Didn't think this all the way through, did you?" he asked, drawing his wand and toying with it in his hands. Holding it up for her to examine, he said, "I, however, have. I remember the problem Harry Potter and I faced when we last tried to duel--our wands wouldn't cooperate. I have found a way to alter my own so that it won't happen again." Hermione waited apprehensively, wondering where he was going with this. "I have been very much looking forward to our little duel, and I do not want to wait much longer."

His wand was now pointing directly at Hermione, who was losing composure every second. "It will take place in September, on the Hogwarts grounds."

Voldemort's smile disappeared. "I will not wait until September."

"Until then, Harry and Dumbledore will remain hidden," said Hermione boldly.

Anger flashed across the Dark Lord's face and he raised his wand so fast that Hermione had no time to react, "_Cru_--"

"_Proteti!_" shouted Draco before he could stop himself. The well-cast shield reflected the Dark Lord's curse. He turned angrily to face Draco, who quickly tried to cover up his mistake. "Torturing her to insanity will only postpone the duel further," he pointed out.

Voldemort did not like to be corrected, and was about to make this clear to Draco when Hermione spoke, "The earliest it will be is September first, and it will be on the Hogwarts grounds."

"What evidence do we have that he will be there and that this is not just a trap in which we will all be found and arrested by the Ministry?" asked Lucius from behind the Dark Lord.

"In case you've forgotten," said Hermione, far less afraid of Lucius than of Lord Voldemort, "the Ministry believes me to be missing and has been looking for Harry and Dumbledore for some time. We have no connection with them."

No one responded for a moment as Voldemort thought. "I will be there on the first of September, I give you my word on that," he said after a long pause, extending his pale hand toward Hermione, who hesitated slightly before taking it.

A surge of pain flowed up Hermione's arm and she gave an involuntary cry of surprise. Draco tensed as he watched the handshake take place, wondering what had happened and whether he should act. A moment later, however, the contact was broken and the Dark Lord continued with a smile, "I expect you will be there, too."

Hermione didn't need these last words to know that she was now under some sort of magical bond. She had no doubt that Voldemort had just ensured her presence at Hogwarts on the first, whether Harry and Dumbledore came or not. She hadn't really expected for him to take her word on it, but she also hadn't anticipated the pain she would endure in sealing their deal; her arm still ached where the magic had spread.

Draco took the silence as a cue to lead Hermione from the room, which he did, and she did not object. Her relief was evident when the entered the corridor and the study door closed behind them; she gave a heavy sigh and suddenly looked much less rigid.

They walked in silence once more and Draco couldn't help feeling relieved as well. He hadn't been sure what would happen at the meeting, but he knew things could have gone much, much worse than they did. He still didn't know what had happened between the Dark Lord and Hermione at the end, but it didn't seem as though he'd cursed her, and she didn't look very worried about the whole idea.

They stepped out into the now dark outdoors, stepping carefully down the stone steps. Draco stopped walking at the point at which they'd arrived, expecting Hermione to apparate without a word.

This, however, she did not do. Instead, she hesitated, looking curiously up at Draco's masked face. Draco didn't know what she was thinking; little did he know it was about him. Hermione had noticed several things over the course of the evening: his familiar walk, the fake-sounding voice, the fact that he'd shielded her from Voldemort's curse. She was almost positive she knew who he was, but did not want--as he hadn't--to complicate things further, especially when they were _so_ close to the end.

She took a tentative step toward him, offering a small smile that she hoped would express some of these thoughts. "Thank you, Draco," she said softly, and disapparated before he could reply.


	15. Chapter 15

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 15**

The weeks to the first of September went by rather quickly--much more quickly, in fact, than Hermione would have hoped. She spent nearly all her time at the lake with Harry, helping him practice whatever spell Dumbledore had showed them that morning. Dumbledore was around more frequently now, and he too helped Harry and encouraged him in any way he could.

Harry himself seemed surprisingly determined and confident; Hermione thought that were she in his position, she would have been a nervous wreck. She was so curious about his seemingly unworried behavior that she asked his about it one evening when they were both trying to fall asleep.

"Harry?" she whispered tentatively to the ceiling.

"Mmm?" muttered Harry sleepily.

"How do you…I don't want to be discouraging or anything, but I'm really curious…why don't you seem worried about the duel? It's not that you should be, I just mean…it seemed like you were almost more scared back at school before the war even started."

This was followed by a long silence, and Hermione wasn't at all sure whether Harry was thinking or if he had fallen asleep. She was about to give in to the inevitability of the latter--he had, after all been working hard all day--when he said suddenly, "There's not much of a point to worrying, is there?"

"Well…what do you mean?" asked Hermione, confused. She knew there was never really any _need_ to worry, but people did it anyway, didn't they?

"Well it isn't exactly like I can get out of fighting him; according to the prophecy, it has to happen eventually. With that and the fact that I've had a lot of time to think about it get over my anxiety, I just don't need to waste my energy on worrying." This response wasn't entirely satisfactory to Hermione, which Harry seemed to sense, for he continued, "I know it's not exactly cheery, but whatever happens in the duel will happen. I'll do my best, and I may win, I may lose, but if I fail, I won't really have a chance to dwell on it, will I?"

He said this last comment at if it was amusing, but Hermione felt more of an inclination to cry than to laugh. His death did not amuse her, and she didn't think it would amuse the rest of the magical world, either. She did not say anything more, and after a while she could tell by his steady, deep breathing that Harry had fallen asleep. Staring up through the window at the starry sky, she tried to feel as Harry did--that whatever would happen was out of her control, and there was no sense worrying about it--but she couldn't, and the feeling of queasiness she felt then would not leave her in the rest of the days that led to the first.

…

Draco stared at the place where Hermione had been for a long time after she had left, his surprise paralyzing him. Finally acknowledging the fact that he would eventually have to go back inside, he nodded slightly to himself and turned, heading slowly back towards the steps. He opened the door through which he had just led Hermione and was greeted, none too pleasantly, by Lucius.

"Why did you bring her back here?" his father asked immediately.

Draco closed the door behind him and took his hood off. "I didn't have a choice," he said wearily. He did not feel like being scolded or yelled at the moment, by Lucius least of all.

"Oh, so it was _unavoidable_?" asked Lucius, half mockingly, half angrily.

"Yes," said Draco firmly.

"You let things get so far out of your control that she started manipulating you?"

"_No_, I…what's the point in discussing this now? It's over."

"The point, Draco," said Lucius, stepping closer to his son and raising his voice, "is that Miss Granger had the upper hand in the situation." When Draco started to object, Lucius continued, raising his voice even more, "And I think, despite what you might say, that such was also the case during your supposedly useful relationship with her at school."

"What are you saying, that she was using _me_ at Hogwarts? What could she possibly want from me?" asked Draco, bringing the volume of his voice up to match that of his father's.

"I think it's entirely possible, and from what I saw tonight, probably entirely true!"

"What did you want me to do? She refused to talk to me; she only wanted to speak with the Dark Lord. She was on orders from Dumbledore."

"She wouldn't talk to her because you didn't make her! What is the point of your even being a servant of the Dark Lord if you can't do what he asks? Could you not have used the Cruciatus curse when she didn't cooperate?"

Draco was horrified at the very idea. Why had he never realized in his youth what a truly sick human being his father was? "No, I couldn't have; what if I had made a mistake and she died or lost her memory or went mad? She is the only connection we have to Potter and Dumbledore! What if we lost that?"

"I don't think you're worried about our connection to Potter; I think you're worried about losing _her_," said Lucius, his voice shaking in rage and disgust. "What about earlier this evening? Why did you shield her? Do you not trust the Dark Lord to decide what to do on his own?"

"I thought he was making a mistake," said Draco, wondering if he should slip out the door behind him and make a run for it.

"It doesn't matter what you think; the Dark Lord decides what to do and we follow. Do not ever question him again." Seemingly having decided the conversation was now over, Lucius turned and started walking away. He had only made it a few steps when he paused and turned back toward Draco. "I don't know the real situation was with Miss Granger while you were still at Hogwarts, but it's over now, Draco, and your loyalty is solely to the Dark Lord."

Draco felt like retorting, but bit his tongue, not wanting the conversation to fire up once more. Lucius turned again and walked away, leaving Draco to fume silently in the shadows of the doorway.

…

Harry was pacing back and forth, muttering spells and counter-spells under his breath. Hermione sat on the couch, watching him vaguely but thinking of other things. It was very early in the morning on the first of September, and Dumbledore had not yet emerged from his room.

Thinking that just sitting there to drown in their anxiety was probably a bad idea, Hermione finally stood up and stepped over to the small kitchen area. "Do you want some breakfast, Harry?" she asked, glancing at her watch, which read five o'clock am. Harry just shook his head and continued his pacing. "Yes, you do," said Hermione quietly, pulling out equipment to make breakfast for them and Dumbledore when he woke up.

An hour or so later, Dumbledore did exit his bedroom, looking more awake than either of the two students. "Have you been up long?" he asked, looking at a pile of half-burned toast and pancakes on the table at which Harry and Hermione sat. They nodded but didn't say anything. Dumbledore sighed and took a seat beside them. "It is not likely that we will have to leave before noon. In fact, I would not be surprised if Voldemort planned on meeting in the evening, a time he prefers most often. Since this is most likely the case, the best thing either of you can do--Harry, you especially--is to get in a few more hours of sleep. I know it is difficult, what with your nerves, but it would be of far better use than to spend the day waiting."

Hermione did not disagree with these words, but thought Dumbledore's a nearly impossible request. True, she was tired, she could feel it already and the day was hardly breaking, but the knot in her stomach would prevent her from getting any rest for some time, she was sure. She nodded and smiled at Dumbledore despite this, and finished her cup of coffee without speaking.

Harry was out before eleven. His face was pressed against the table, his glasses awry, and his deep breaths made the _Daily Prophet_ lying a few inches in front of him flutter slightly. His tiredness didn't surprise Hermione, who knew for a fact that he hadn't slept all night, nor for more than an hour the previous night. She was glad he was finally getting some sleep, and only wished that he was in a more comfortable position.

As for Hermione, she realized after a couple hours that the coffee had been a mistake; she was now more anxious, still tired, and more irritable. She knew she didn't really have a right to be nervous--it was Harry who would be doing all the work later on, but she supposed she was merely worried _for_ him. And for what would happen should something go wrong. _Stop it!_ she told herself, pushing away from the table and standing, _You're just making it worse. Just…stop thinking. _Hermione collapsed onto the sofa, entirely unconvinced that she would ever get to sleep.

Hermione woke up at five o'clock that afternoon with a gentle shake from Dumbledore. "I think it would be best for you to be awake when Voldemort summons you, and I need to discuss a few things with the two of you before we go," he explained, smiling apologetically. Hermione nodded and rubbed her eyes.

Harry was still sitting at the table, though much more aware than he had been when she'd last seen him. She and Dumbledore joined him and Dumbledore began to speak, "We have been working towards being prepared for this day for a long time now, and before it doesn't matter anymore, I want to tell you some things.

"First, your help is greatly appreciated, Miss Granger, as is your staying with us for the summer. I realize that when the war is over, you will have some things to work out with the Ministry." Hermione blinked in confusion for a moment and then remembered with a jolt that she had been in trouble with the Ministry for the murder of those two Death Eaters…. It seemed like an eternity ago to her, but she had no doubt the Ministry would remember. How was it that she had completely forgotten the time between the start of the war and her time in the cabin? That she was considered missing, presumably dead, by the majority of the magical world? It was strange to forget such major things. "I do not for an instant think that you will be punished," continued Dumbledore, "I suspect that in light of more important news, the Ministry will quite forget your crime. However, keep in mind what the Ministry will think when they discover that you ran away with us--two people they very much wanted to find--only days before your hearing.

"Harry," he said, turning his gaze to him, "I cannot express how proud I am, and have been for some time now, of you." He smiled and Harry looked down awkwardly. "Remain calm and remember our lessons, that's all you really need to hear.

"Now, there are some situations I want you to prepare for should something go wrong this evening," said Dumbledore, pushing his glasses up his nose a little. "Last time, you ran into the problem of Priori Incantatem. Now--"

"Wait, sorry to interrupt, but I forgot to tell you something," said Hermione suddenly, recalling something Voldemort had said to her that night a few weeks ago. "I just remembered: Voldemort said he had altered his wand so that this time the two wands would cooperate…that's what you meant by Priori Incantatem, isn't it?"

"Yes, it was," said Dumbledore, looking a bit surprised and thoughtful. "Well, that's good," he said, though not looking entirely convinced, "I wonder…well, anyway, I suspect we haven't got much time, so on to the next thing.

"I presume Voldemort will be accompanied by some, if not many, Death Eaters. I obviously do not know what he will tell them, but as we are only three, if they attack, we will be most unprepared. For this reason, I sent an owl to the Burrow not long ago, explaining the situation and asking for assistance. I only hope that if none of the Weasleys receive the message, we will not need it. For our part, we must be constantly alert and ready to act. Miss Granger, I trust in helping Harry with his spells, you too learned many of them. Am I correct?"

"Well…yes, some of them," said Hermione uncertainly.

"Good, you may need them. Alright, now, most importantly, what we should do if Harry is successful. This depends entirely on how the Death Eaters react…"

Hermione suddenly had to strain to hear Dumbledore's voice clearly, and then it disappeared altogether. Her vision blurred at the edges and went black. She felt like she was falling into a dark pit, unable to control anything ad entirely confused as to what was happening. The air around her grew thin and she struggled for breath and then, it was over.

Hermione fell onto her hands and knees on a grassy surface, gasping for air. She felt a bit dizzy and took a moment to focus her eyes before she was jerked to a standing position by an unknown person. Finding herself, she looked around and saw more than a dozen robed men, all with their faces hidden. "Good evening, Miss Granger," said a cold voice that Hermione recognized.

Hermione turned to see Lord Voldemort, the only one of the lot whose face was not masked, a small smile on his thin face. She nodded, glaring at him, but did not reply. Looking past all the dark figures, she saw a sight that made the knot in her stomach loosen slightly: Hogwarts castle. The windows were dark and deserted, but there were enough good memories here for Hermione to feel comforted by the mere sight of the place.

The Death Eaters seemed out of place and uncomfortable. Some of them looked up at the castle and whispered to one another, occasionally chuckling. Hermione imagined they were talking about their own experiences there, and she felt a strange twinge of sadness at the thought.

"Where are your friends, Miss Granger?" asked Voldemort after at least a minute had passed in silence. His expression was no longer amused in the slightest; it was impatient and irritated.

"I don't know," answered Hermione truthfully. Whatever Dumbledore and Harry were doing, she wished they would hurry up and get there. She was not at all comfortable to be alone with all of these Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself.

"I hope, for your sake, that they arrive soon."

Hermione didn't like the sound of that--she gripped her wand tightly in her pocket. _Come on, _she pleaded silently to Harry and Dumbledore, _you know what happened…why aren't you here yet?_ A moment of silence, and then two shapes appeared in the distance, walking briskly toward them. It was Harry and Dumbledore, having obviously apparated to Hogsmeade and walked from there.

"Ah, Tom," said Dumbledore pleasantly, stopping before Lord Voldemort, "here we are yet again."

"Yes," said Voldemort, looking not at Dumbledore, but at Harry, "at long last." He and Harry engaged in a fierce glaring contest, which was interrupted after a moment by Dumbledore clearing his throat significantly. "Right," said Voldemort, smiling once more, "then shall we begin?"

All of the Death Eaters between or near Harry and the Dark Lord started carefully edging out of the way. Hermione and Dumbledore followed suit, standing back and leaving Harry facing his opponent determinedly. Voldemort raised his wand quickly. Harry did the same so quickly that Hermione wondered for a moment if the act had been simultaneous.

"_Crucio!" _shouted Voldemort at the same time Harry cried, "_Expelliarmus!_"

Hermione gasped as she was suddenly thrown backward several feet, a magical gold barrier filling the place she had just stood. Harry and Voldemort were completely hidden from view inside the glistening dome. Looking around, Hermione noticed that the Death Eaters didn't look remotely disturbed by this, which was all the more unsettling. "Professor?" she whispered anxiously to Dumbledore. "What's going on?"

Dumbledore sighed, looking disturbed. "It is as I assumed." To Hermione's questioning look, he continued, "When you told me that Voldemort had altered his wand to fix the problem of Priori Incantatem, I wondered what he might have done. It is clear now that the charm he used on his wand to prevent that magical bond did not prevent the formation of the barrier that usually accompanies Priori Incantatem, and I am sure he did not want it to. You see, he would have wanted it to be impossible for any allies of Harry, including ourselves, to intervene in any way during the duel."

Hermione nodded her understanding and asked, "But, if we can't see the duel, are we just going to wait out here with the Death Eaters until it's over?"

Dumbledore looked anxiously over her head at something and said, "I do not think we will be waiting idly."

Hermione followed his gaze, turning and finding a huddled group of Death Eaters whisper briefly and then turn to the two of them, all drawing their wands. "No…" said Hermione, stepping back involuntarily and drawing her wand.

"Do not worry," said Dumbledore, also drawing his wand and looking, despite his words, very worried.

"Professor, there must be at least fifteen of them and only two of us," said Hermione desperately.

Dumbledore pulled something out of the pocket of his robes and said quietly, "If things go badly, put this on and leave as quickly as possible." Hermione didn't bother questioning this; she merely stuffed the something, which she realized was Harry's invisibility cloak, into her pocket.

They couldn't keep backing away from the approaching Death Eaters for ever, so Hermione wondered who would attack first. One Death Eater raised his wand, but before he could utter a spell, Dumbledore had raised his and muttered, "_Stupefy._"

That started it; the rest of the Death Eaters picked up their pace and raised their wands, shouting various hexes and curses. "_Protego! Protego!_" shouted Hermione, reflecting as many spells as she could. She could barely defend herself, so how would she be able to fight back?

Beside her, Dumbledore was doing a better job of stunning Death Eaters, but since he refused to do anything more, they popped right back up again once one of their associates muttered the counter-spell.

To both her and Dumbledore's undying relief, they were suddenly aided by a group of five people that had just run up from Hogsmeade: Ron, Fred, George, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Surprised by the newcomers, the Death Eaters seemed momentarily confused about how to react. It was only when all five Weasleys had raised their wands and were saying spells that the Death Eaters started casting at them as well.

The vicious spell-casting continued for a while with no real effect on either side's part. The Death Eaters, who were not above killing, were always interrupted in this aim by being hit from behind by a hex or jostled by one of their companions. One Death Eater's aim was so terrible that whoever it was did not land a spell on its intended target the entire time. Hermione figured the person must be either drunk or confunded.

"_Stupefy!_" she screamed while narrowly dodging an impediment jinx. The intended Death Eater fell, but another one started muttering the counter-spell almost instantaneously. On a sudden impulse, Hermione aimed again and said, "_Proteti._"

The counter-spell bounced uselessly off the magical shield Hermione had placed on the fallen Death Eater. She took advantage of the other's confusion and stunned him as well. Pleased with her work, she magically levitated the two bodies from the ground and steered them towards the edge of the forest, where few would see them.

Lucius, who had witnessed all of this, laughed to himself and raised his wand while Hermione was distracted by her task, "_Crucio!"_

"_Proteti!_" A shielding charm came seemingly out of nowhere and protected Hermione, who felt the curse hit the invisible barrier that surrounded her. She whirled around and saw the "confunded" Death Eater abruptly howl in agony, dropping to the ground as one of his fellows hit him with a curse. Realization hit Hermione after a moment and she sprinted suddenly at the one with his wand raised--Lucius. She hit him forcefully from the side and knocked him to the ground.

The Cruciatus curse was immediately lifted in Lucius's surprise, and the other Death Eater quieted, still shaking, on the ground. Hermione, who needed a moment to catch her breath from her violent attack, lay on the ground as Lucius jumped up. His voice shook in fury as he pointed his wand at Hermione, who was too dazed to react, "_Avada Ked--_"

"_Impedimenta!_" cried another voice as the tortured Death Eater stood and raised his own wand. Lucius froze where he was, the spell dying before it had fully formed.

Hermione sighed in immense relief, standing and taking her wand firmly in her right hand before Lucius was released from the effects of the jinx. She meant--but didn't have time--to express her thanks to Draco, who she knew was under the mask of the other Death Eater. He ran over to the paralyzed Lucius and grabbed his wand, tossing it to Hermione, who, though surprised, caught it. Draco then paused and looked towards Hermione, clearly trying to decide something hastily. He then glanced briefly at Lucius and started stepping backwards, away from the entire fighting scene. He raised his hand in goodbye, a gesture Hermione returned, and turned, sprinting away from them just as Lucius came out of his frozen state.

Looking around wildly for his wand when he realized it was missing, Lucius's eyes finally landed on Hermione, who panicked and started running in the opposite direction. Lucius chased after her, screaming insults and threats as he went, but Hermione ignored him, throwing an occasional spell over her shoulder in defense. Realizing that he was gaining on her, Hermione yanked Harry's cloak out of her pocket and pulled it over herself. Lucius's scream of frustration alone made it worth it.

Slowing to a walk, Hermione stepped carefully out of Lucius's path. She slipped around a trunk of a tree on the outskirts of the forest and tried to catch her breath. In the safety on her hiding place, Hermione set her own wand down and took Lucius's in both hands, bring the piece of wood down hard on her thigh and snapping it neatly in two. Smiling to herself in satisfaction, she emerged from behind the tree and hurled the pieces of the wand at Lucius, who figured out what they were quickly and yelled in rage. Since he was defenseless and distracted, Hermione took this time to stun him and took off the cloak only when he had fallen to the ground.

For the moment, no one seemed to be aware of Hermione: Ron was fighting off one Death Eater while Fred and George were taking on three together, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, too, were preoccupied, but Dumbledore was not among them. Hermione started back towards the lot, looking every which way for any sign of the Headmaster and stunning an unsuspecting Death Eater from behind as she went. Only about half the Death Eaters were still around and conscious, the others lying stunned, or perhaps dead, in various places. A tree had been set on fire by a miscast spell, and the smoke made everything seem a bit hazy and blurred at the edges.

Then, not too far from the large dome covering Harry and Voldemort, she saw them: a tall, thin Death Eater robed in black fighting fiercely with Dumbledore. The Death Eater spoke a spell that Hermione could not hear and flash of bright blue light sprouted from his wand. Dumbledore's defensive shield broke and her was hit with the full force of his opponent's curse. He fell back onto the ground and seemed suddenly so weak that he could not even raise his wand. The Death Eater did not hesitate to aim his wand, crying, "_Avada Kedavra!"_

For a moment, Hermione just stood, rooted to the spot in confusion and shock. The jet of green light hit Dumbledore squarely and there could be no way, absolutely no way, that he had survived it. Tears streamed down Hermione's face and she shook her head, unable and unwilling to believe it. "No," she said quietly, and then repeated the word over and over, louder and louder each time. "NO!" she screamed, her voice shaking in a sob as she raised her wand angrily and the offending Death Eater, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

The Death Eater didn't even know she was there; he didn't expect anything. He fell to the ground a second later, a foot or so from where Dumbledore lay. Hermione finally got up the courage to move a minute or so later, quickening her pace all the way to the Headmaster's side, where she kneeled. "Professor," she mumbled, placing a hand on his shoulder, still not able to face the idea that, seemingly impossibly, he was dead. She closed her eyes when he didn't, as she had expected he wouldn't, move. Opening them again after what felt like hours, Hermione moved her hand to Dumbledore's face and gently closed his eyes.

A thunderous boom echoed across the grounds and Hermione jerked her head up in time to she the magical barrier separating Harry and Voldemort from the rest of the world disappear as one of them fell to the ground. Squinting to see who was left, who had won, her heart hammering furiously in her chest, Hermione saw a figure stagger slowly forward.

It was Harry. He had won.

**END OF PART TWO**

…

**AN:** So sorry I didn't update sooner, and this still isn't the end of the story! Part Three is on its way!


	16. Chapter 16

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**PART THREE: THE LONG-EXPECTED REUNION**

The Weasleys agreed to take Harry to St. Mungo's and inform the Ministry of what had happened, for which Hermione was very relieved. As much as she wanted to stay with Harry, who had collapsed seconds after his victory, she did not want to be arrested by the Ministry for what was now to be _three _murders. The thought made her insides squirm. How could she have done this? Was her anger really that far out of her control? She had always thought of herself as a stable, reasonable person. Apparently she had always thought wrong.

Hermione watched the Weasleys disappear towards Hogsmeade, rolling Harry before them on a conjured stretcher. Knowing that Ministry wizards would be there within minutes to take the stunned Death Eaters and Dumbledore's body, Hermione turned and slowly started heading up to the castle.

She pulled open one of the heavy wooden front doors and slipped inside. Almost complete darkness surrounded her, the exception being the slit of light coming through the crack between the doors leading to the Great Hall. Hermione stepped carefully towards it and pushed on the doors when she reached them.

The Great Hall was filled with the gray light from the overcast sky outside and Hermione gasped at what she saw. The hall had been torn apart; tables were overturned, benches broken, plates and glasses shattered and littering the floor… the sight was terrible. She bent down and picked up part of a broken candle, examining it. As she had always preferred fire light to magical light, she light the candle with her wand and stepped back into the Entrance hall to examine the damage there.

It, too, was in shambles. Pieces of suits of armor were scattered here and there, classroom doors had been broken off their hinges, and broken glass and china covered the floor in various places. Stepping tentatively through the mess, Hermione headed towards the stairwell. Standing at the top of it and looking down in horror, Hermione wondered what could possibly have happened to the school after everyone had left.

She continued to wonder as she walked through the halls, frowning at the devastating mess the library appeared to be in. Hermione didn't even bother to enter, continuing her trek through the corridors and up flights of stairs. Many subjects in the portraits seemed to have disappeared and Hermione figured they must all be hiding somewhere or visiting their alternate paintings. As it was, she couldn't get into Gryffindor tower, which, she reminded herself, might not have been possible anyway, since she didn't remember the password.

A Dark Mark carved with a blade into the back of a wooden chair cleared a few things up for Hermione; she figured that, in their search for Harry and Dumbledore, the Death Eaters must have thought of Hogwarts first. They probably searched it, took anything left behind that they wanted, maybe even used it as a shelter for a time, and left it in ruins. _What pathetic excuses for human beings_, thought Hermione angrily. Who was to blame her, really, for ridding the world of three of them? Even with this justification, Hermione felt a bit sick whenever she thought of what she'd done.

Hermione smiled sadly as she passed certain rooms and decorations, but the one that made her most sad and which she subconsciously saved for last, was the tower. She stared at the tapestry for a moment, thinking, and then pulled out her wand and tapped it lightly three times. It, as expected, rolled up, and Hermione entered.

The stairwell was, like the rest of the castle, darker and colder than she remembered. The walk to the top seemed infinite and when she finally reached it, it was to find the room in much poorer shape than they'd left it. The breeze through the broken windows blew out her candle and Hermione set it aside. She started to step towards the windows opposite her, hoping to gaze out at the grounds as she used to, but stopped mid-step when she remembered what the view would be. It would be more pleasant, she decided, to remember it as it had been.

Sliding down the stone wall to a sitting position, Hermione found herself getting caught up in her memories and fell asleep lost in them.

…

No one knew how Lucius had escaped. Draco had theories, but no more than that. When he read the article in the _Daily Prophet_, which described in detail all that had happened, he assumed that his father had been revived by one of the other Death Eaters before they fled. Draco suspected that the Weasleys and Hermione had been too preoccupied with Harry's condition to notice or care what the Death eaters did or where they went.

Draco took another sip of his coffee and instinctively pulled his scarf up around his lower face as someone entered the nearly deserted café in which Draco was sitting. Seeing that it was only another unfamiliar muggle, Draco relaxed and looked back to the _Prophet_, which he'd charmed so the pictures stopped moving. He realized then that his paranoia was getting a bit out of hand. True, it was almost certain that Lucius was on Draco's trail, determined as he must have been after the incident on the first to teach Draco a lesson—perhaps even a _final_ lesson.

Draco set the small amount of muggle money he had on the table in payment for his drink. He had returned ever so briefly to Malfoy manor after running away to pick up a few things, including a small stash of muggle money his parents had for unknown reasons in a small box in the front hall. Draco did not know, nor did he particularly care to know, specifically how or why his parents had acquired this muggle currency, which after all was of little use to them.

At any rate, Draco had spent most of it on his cheap London hotel room and had little left for food. As he pulled the hood of his jacket up and readjusted his thick scarf in preparation for walking the streets, Draco wondered what on earth he was going to do next. He was virtually broke, as wizarding money was of no use in London; he had no place to stay after the week was out and the hotel wanted another payment; he was being hunted down by at least his psychotic father, if not a few extra Death Eaters; he was still wanted by the Ministry for being a Death Eater…. His situation was, to put it mildly, _unfavorable_.

_Maybe I could get a job_, thought Draco, but his hopes weren't high. What would he do? And for how long would he be able to stay at one position before he had to run again? Would he just have to keep jumping from place to place until he died of starvation or his father was arrested? What an unpleasant thought.

Draco turned right after a few blocks, heading back to his hotel and ignoring the strange looks he was getting from passersby for wearing a jacket and heavy scarf in early autumn. It was a bit cold, but he was still unnecessarily heavily dressed.

Draco stepped up the short stairwell to the front door of his hotel and yanked it open. It smelled musty and old inside, the only window being inoperable, but Draco had learned to ignore this. He stepped up to the reception desk and rang the bell. An unnaturally thin man of at least seventy years of age appeared after a moment, walking feebly. "Room number, sir?" he rasped.

"Thirteen," said Draco.

The old man reached up for the key on the wall and placed it gently on the counter. Draco nodded and turned away, taking his key in his hand. Just as he had reached the narrow stairwell, he heard the old man call out to him.

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy!" he called hoarsely. Draco turned back. "Someone asked for you earlier. I believe he is waiting in the common area down the hall."

Draco froze in surprise. Who wanted to see him? Who even knew where he was? His first thought was Lucius, but he hoped that was just his heightened paranoia kicking in. He waved to the receptionist in thanks and headed cautiously down the hallway. It, like the rest of the building, smelled funny and damp, like a cellar, and the walls were sparsely decorated with cheap prints and ancient photographs. The sitting room was down at the end, near the second set of stairs, and contained only a few armchairs and magazines. The hotel wasn't exactly high-class.

Draco inched his way toward the entrance to the sitting room, wondering if he dared enter or if he should just take his chances with whoever it was, pack his things, and run. Not breathing, Draco slowly peeked around the corner, quickly searching the area. A snoring man in a gray suit sat in a pink armchair in the corner, and the only other person present had his back to Draco, reading a newspaper—in which the pictures moved. Draco continued watching, trying to see more of the man without drawing attention to himself.

Draco started when the man abruptly closed the newspaper and slammed it down on the coffee table beside him, apparently in frustration. The brief glimpse Draco had of the man's blond head was enough for Draco to duck back around the corner and take the stairs beside him two at a time, up to his room.

He sprinted down the upstairs hallway, looking quickly back in the direction he'd come from before unlocking his room's door and slamming it behind him. Thankfully, he didn't have much stuff to pack, and if truth be told, Draco was too preoccupied to worry whether he got it all together in his bag. Once again pulling his hood up to conceal at least part of his face, Draco opened the door again but had to immediately slam it shut once more at the sight of what was on the other side.

Lucius stood outside Draco's door, smiling smugly.

…

Hermione sat beside Harry's bed at St. Mungo's, her head resting precariously on the back of her chair as she slept. Harry hadn't woken since his arrival at the hospital, and Hermione had refused to leave his side until he did. She had come in the morning after the duel, exhausted and depressed from her uncomfortable sleep and trip down memory lane at the school. The healers were beginning to worry as much for her health as Harry's; she had, after all, not eaten for days in all likelihood and she looked pale and sick, probably from lack of sleep.

At any rate, they hadn't been able to convince her to go home and sleep, and the Ministry had been too busy celebrating the downfall of Voldemort to arrest her. She doubted they even knew where she was or that she was, in fact, alive. She estimated it would be at least a few more days before they caught up with her.

Dawn broke outside and bright sunlight started streaming through the window onto Hermione's face. She squirmed in the light and tentatively opened her eyes. She tried to lift her head but groaned in pain—the unfortunate position she'd fallen asleep in had tensed her muscles and they now ached horribly. Trying to stretch out her neck, Hermione looked around and found that no healers were yet there. It was probably too early.

A noise from Harry's bed drew her attention and she looked over at him. He moved his head a little bit and then slowly, very slowly, opened his eyes. He squinted in the early morning light and looked at the ceiling for a moment, clearly trying to bring it into focus. Hermione, excited that he was finally showing signs of life, quickly reached over to the table beside his bed and grabbed his glasses, gently putting them on his head.

Harry looked over in surprise and smiled when he recognized her. She returned the smile and asked, "Are you alright? How do you feel?"

It seemed to take Harry a moment to register the question, then he said hoarsely, "I'm fine. I think." He looked concernedly at her, "You don't look so great, though."

Hermione shrugged, "I was just worried."

Harry nodded slightly. He knew how Hermione got when she was worried about something; already he could picture her stubbornly telling a healer that she would not go home and sleep until he had woken.

They sat in silence for a moment while Harry fully came back to earth. He tried once to sit up, but gave up after a moment when he suddenly felt a searing pain in his side. He looked down towards the foot of his bed and was surprised to find a large table covered in flowers and cards.

"What's all that?" he asked Hermione, nodding to the table. She raised an eyebrow at him. "What?" he asked.

"Well, I suspect you'd be enough used to saving the world by now to realize that those are gifts from your fans—basically the entire magical community right now," explained Hermione. "There were a lot that the healers had to throw away, as well—far too many for them to fit in this room."

"Oh," said Harry as it all started making sense to him. It wasn't until that moment, when Hermione mentioned his "fans" that Harry really remembered what had happened. Since he had woken up, he actually hadn't thought once of the duel and that, somehow, he had managed to survive.

Not just survive. _Win_.

It surprised him now that he hadn't questioned before why he was lying in a bed in a hospital or why his body ached all over. After a moment's thought he imagined that it was probably because he had never expected to be there. Sad as it was, Harry really hadn't expected to come out of the duel alive—even if he won, he'd thought that he would die from the strain or at the hands of an angry Death Eater immediately afterwards. He had gotten used to the idea.

At any rate, it was over now; a wave of relief passed over him and he smiled a little. "So…what happened? While I was fighting Voldemort, I mean?"

Hermione leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember. "Well, after the dome sealed over the two of you, the Death Eaters started to attack us and Dumbledore gave me your cloak—in case things go badly, he said.

"My spirits weren't that high, but thankfully most of the Weasley family came to our aid about that time—Dumbledore had sent them an owl, I think—and everyone started fighting." Hermione paused here and wondered how best to continue. "Lucius was chasing after me for a while, but I got his wand away from him and snapped it before stunning him. I heard he got away anyway…." She frowned, still angry about this. Then, straining to recall what else had happened, she remembered that Harry did not yet know of the biggest event, and though she didn't particularly want to, she knew she would have to tell him…

"Harry," she said quietly, "Dumbledore is dead."

…

Draco, his heart pounding furiously, scrambled around his bed and grabbed his bag before flinging himself at the window. Too late, he realized that it, like the ones downstairs, was not supposed to open. With a painful crash, he shattered the glass and fell one story into the bushes below. As bits of glass fell around him, Draco rolled over and looked up into the angry expression of his father, who quickly withdrew his head from the broken window so as not to be noticed by passersby. Draco mimicked Lucius's earlier smirk and disapparated.

He reappeared instantly on the ground in a narrow alley a good ten miles from the hotel. It wasn't nearly far enough from Lucius, but he doubted that his father would even know where to begin to look. Draco guessed he would go back to the manor and re-strategize. That gave him maybe a day. Probably less, considering that Lucius had nothing to do but hide from the Ministry and figure out where Draco was.

Groaning, Draco rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself slowly off the ground. His shirt was ripped all over and soaked in blood. Muttering a healing spell under his breath, Draco managed to stop the bleeding in most places, but the shirt was forever ruined. He threw it in a dumpster on his way out of the alley, wearing instead just a jacket that he had brought with him.

There was probably a less painful way for Draco to make his escape, but he knew the one thing that scared Lucius right now was the idea of being noticed—it increased the likelihood of arrest. People noticed when someone flew through a window, and if Draco was lucky, some muggles would be there quick enough to find Lucius before he got away. The chances for this were beyond slim—they were infinitesimally small—but he could always hope.

Draco reached an intersection with several cars and immediately reached to pull up his scarf, but it was gone. Cursing, Draco realized he'd probably lost it in the bushes. Ah, well. He'd have to live without it.

The intersection, however, raised yet another problem: where was he going? He had no money, no source of such, no food, few clothes, nothing to sell…. "_Fuck_!" he groaned, looking right and left down the street. Where to? He decided to head left, out of the city, figuring that the fewer people that saw him, the better.

Hours upon hours he headed down the road, watching the closely packed buildings separate out as he reached the suburbs, eventually petering out altogether as he reached the border between them and the empty fields. Beyond that point he saw maybe two cars, neither of which took any notice of him.

The sun set slowly, and Draco's muscles grew so weak he thought he might collapse. When darkness had settled completely, and Draco could see nothing but the half-moon and glittering stars above, he tripped over a large tree root and moved no further.

…

Harry stared at Hermione for a moment, uncomprehending. The words really weren't registering in his mind. It couldn't be true. It _wasn't _true. It didn't help that his brain was working slower than usual anyway. Hermione took his hand and nodded sadly. "But…what…I…" he couldn't even find words for a question. It just wasn't possible.

"It was right before we saw you. He was fighting a Death Eater, and I guess he just…made a mistake."

"What? Dumbledore is a genius, he doesn't just _make mistakes_," argued Harry, visibly upset.

"Well, I don't know, Harry. He was probably distracted, like the rest of us."

"He isn't like the rest of us!" said Harry, raising his voice and trying to sit up in his bed. "What could distract him if he was fighting for his life?"

Hermione realized that Harry was just upset because he didn't want to believe it. She didn't want to believe it, either, but she couldn't help feeling that he was somehow accusing _her_ of something and combined with her irritability from lack of rest, she got a bit upset as well. "He was worried, Harry! Don't you understand?"

"Worried about _what_? What, at that moment, was more important than the Death Eater he was dueling?"

"YOU, Harry!" shouted Hermione, creating enough noise that Mrs. Weasley, who has apparently been outside, thrust open the door and looked around worriedly. Hermione was standing now, eyes locked on Harry's, who she realized at that moment finally understood and allowed himself to believe that Dumbledore was indeed dead. She turned and passed Mrs. Weasley without a word, leaving the room as quickly as possible.

Tears fell from the corners of Hermione's eyes and she wiped them away hastily with her sleeve. She hadn't meant to say that, or even yell at Harry at all. He wasn't himself, and she shouldn't have gotten so upset. Now, she knew, he would feel responsible for Dumbledore's death.

Hermione stopped mid-step in the deserted hallway, tempted to go back and somehow reverse the damage she'd done. After a moment, however, she realized that she might only make things worse and slowly started walking again.

The guilt eating at her insides only intensified on her walk to the lobby. Wasn't it bad enough that Harry blamed himself for Sirius's death? Did he really need to add Dumbledore's death to that? Thanks to Hermione, now he would.

She passed glumly through the lobby, distracted from her thoughts only when the receptionist called out to her from across the room.

"Hey!" Hermione turned. "Didn't you used to work here?" A couple of people started looking up from their morning newspapers at the sound of the receptionist's shouts in the otherwise silent room.

"Wait!" said one of them suddenly, examining Hermione. "You're Hermione Granger! The Ministry was looking for you back in the spring."

"Hermione Granger?" asked a man suddenly, "I thought she was dead…"

"Missing," corrected someone else.

Hermione didn't like this conversation. She slowly started stepping towards the door, hoping in their distraction that none of the people in the lobby would notice her go. No such luck.

"You're a murderer! You killed those men that were here!" This was a small voice. Hermione looked around briefly and saw a child pointing accusingly at her. The young girl couldn't have been more than ten.

An uproar from the twenty or so people in the lobby erupted in response to this; accusations, defenses, commands for Hermione to freeze were all thrown around and Hermione took the commotion as an opportunity to run for it. However guilty it made her look, Hermione knew that if she didn't run for it now, the Ministry would be there in a few minutes to arrest her and she just needed a little more time. She couldn't handle it just then.

Hermione bolted for the entrance to the hospital, dodging those in her way. A hand caught her around the wrist, but Hermione shook it off and slipped out the door, sprinting down the streets of muggle London to her old apartment.

Hermione found her old place without being caught and sighed as she pushed her front door closed with her back. Looking around, she noticed that the apartment had been thoroughly searched. It looked as though this had been a long time ago; everything, including the books and clothing strewn about the floor, was covered in a thick layer of dust.

She kicked some of the stuff on the floor aside as she headed for her room. There, too, heaps of clothing and stacks of newspapers, magazines, and books took up most of the floor, but her bed, thankfully, looked exactly the same as she had left it.

Hermione stepped over to it and swept off some of the dust with broad strokes of her arm. She sneezed and decided she was too tired to clean thoroughly. Plopping on the bed in a tiny heap, Hermione fell asleep without another thought.

…

**Author's Note: **I am incredibly sorry for not updating sooner, but I was depressingly busy this month. Please forgive me and review anyway. 


	17. Chapter 17

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 17**

Draco felt a drop of something hit his cheek. Another one hit the back of his neck a moment later. The ground started to rumble beneath him and he opened his eyes slowly. The rumbling grew louder and made his head vibrate. It got almost unbearably loud for a moment and then started to fade. Lifting his head as far as the crick in his neck would allow, Draco saw that a car had just driven by on the dirt road just above the ditch Draco had crashed in.

He felt more drops and he rolled over to look at the sky. He saw the dark grey sky a second before another rain drop hit him in the eye. Groaning, Draco got to his feet and stretched his sore muscles. Lightning struck in the distance and the light rain turned rapidly into a downpour.

Draco trudged on, his shoes covered in a thick layer of brown mud. In five minutes his clothes and bag were soaked through and the weight his tired legs had to bear became even greater. "_Fuck!_" he screamed suddenly at the sky. The rain came down ever harder.

He looked around quickly before whipping out his wand and performing a drying charm on himself. It felt momentarily better, but another few minutes and he was soaked through again. The cycle continued for at least half an hour and still the rain came down fiercely. _If I only knew where I was going I could just apparate... _he thought gloomily. As it was, he still had no idea where he was, where he was going, or, worst of all, what he was going to do when he got there.

A building appeared in the distance, and as Draco trudged toward it, he realized it was a post office. He grunted. Some good that did him. He headed for it anyway, planning on staying there until the rain let up. He opened the door and felt a wave of warmth wash over him.

The inside appeared deserted; no one sat at the counter, no customers were present. Draco shrugged and sat on a small desk in the corner, looking at the different kinds of paper and pens placed neatly on the supply table.

A deafening crash of thunder made the entire building shake and the lights buzzed briefly and then went out altogether. Now lit only by the grey light from the windows, the post office seemed oddly eerie. Draco shivered and called out, "Hello?" No reply. He hopped off the desk and headed for the front desk, with an old dusty bell on it. 'RING FOR SERVICE' said a small sign by the bell. Draco rang it several times. "Hello? Is anyone here?"

When no one came after at least a minute and Draco couldn't hear so much as a sound, he gave up and moved slowly back over to the supply table. If only he could write to someone; a cry for help, express his need for food and safety until...something happened. Even just a bit of muggle money would get him by.

It was just his luck, however that Draco knew no such person. In fact, he knew no one trustworthy at all. His upbringing spent almost solely in the company of Death Eaters certainly wasn't paying off now—not that it ever had.

And then, Draco thought of someone. So obvious, and yet...not at all so. Draco immediately grabbed a slip of paper and a pen and sat down to write.

x x x

Hermione woke up to rough shaking of her shoulder. "Miss Granger?" asked a man's voice. Hermione opened her eyes and blinked rapidly, groaning, at the bright wandlight in her face. "Oh, I'm sorry," grunted the man, removing his wand from Hermione's face.

"What's going on?" asked Hermione groggily, sitting up. "Who the hell are you? Who are _they_?" Hermione asked, reaching for her wand at the sight of several other men and women standing around her room, wands lit.

"Miss Granger, I am Geoffrey Cole of the Ministry of Magic Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You are under arrest by order of the Ministry for the use of the Killing Curse on two men and for not attending the hearing scheduled for you on the twelfth of May last. Will you come with me please?"

Hermione's sleepy brain took a minute to register all that was happening. She finally nodded slowly and stood, allowing Mr. Cole to take her wand. He put a binding spell on her and all of them apparated to the Ministry.

Hermione was still severely disoriented when they arrived in the Ministry lobby and wished more than anything that she would be let free soon. Something in the back of her mind, however, told her that wasn't likely to happen.

They approached the front desk and Mr. Cole told the security person, "Hermione Granger, here under arrest." The man scribbled something on a piece of parchment and nodded. Cole started to walk again, but then stopped abruptly and said, "Oh, and can you send a memo to the Department of Missing Persons confirming Miss Granger's, er, life? Thanks."

They proceeded through doors to the left of the front desk, took the lifts to a lower floor, and walked down a corridor in the direction of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Here everyone aside from Mr. Cole and a short woman left the group with a word or two of goodbye. Hermione was beginning to wonder where they could possibly be going when Cole stopped suddenly at a door marked with his name. They entered the room—assumedly Mr. Cole's office—and he asked a woman at the smaller of the two desks in the room, "Betty, any word on what I'm to do with Ms. Granger?"

The woman looked up from the mail she was sorting and said, "On your desk, Geoffrey."

"Thanks." He stepped over to his desk, where a pile of mail sat neatly. He flipped through the first few pieces and finally found what he was looking for, ripping the envelope open quickly. His eyes scanned the page and he glanced doubtfully at Hermione, frowning slightly. "Seems a bit drastic," he muttered to himself, turning back to the parchment in his hand. He hesitated a moment and then threw the letter back on his desk, shrugging.

Hermione looked worriedly from him to the letter. Exactly _what_ seemed a bit drastic? She asked him as much.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Granger, but your rescheduled hearing is not until Thursday, and in the mean time the Department Head has asked that you be placed in Azkaban."

Hermione paled. That hardly seemed necessary. Four days in Azkaban when she hadn't even been tried yet? Was this normal treatment? "Couldn't the hearing be moved up? I don't understand how I can be sent to Azkaban _before_ my hearing."

Mr. Cole looked apologetic, but he just said, "The Ministry needs some way to keep you from running again, so—"

"Surely there is someplace besides Azkaban!" said Hermione desperately. "We were in a _war_; how can I possibly be blamed for attacking those men—who were _Death Eaters_—when they were killing people right and left? How can I—"

"Save it for your hearing!" said Mr. Cole harshly, "Which, I'm afraid, you'll have to wait for in Azkaban." Hermione opened her mouth to retaliate, but suddenly found herself apparating with Cole, who appeared to have put another binding spell on her.

They reappeared a moment later in a cold, windy place Hermione had never seen before. A salty breeze whipped at her face and stung her eyes. Above, the sky was grey and threatening and a cold mist surrounded them. A single-story cement building stood out in the fog covering the entire area. Hermione stepped backward involuntarily and felt her stomach plunge as her foot missed the ground and fell through empty space. She shrieked in surprise and Mr. Cole grabbed her arm tightly before she fell off the dock they were standing on into the blue-black water.

"Thanks," said Hermione when she regained her footing, and they set off towards the eerie-looking building. They walked in silence with only the sound of the wind streaming around the building to greet their ears. Hermione shuddered as they entered through a metal door and the sound changed altogether.

To a deep, rattling breathing sound.

x x x

Draco finished his letter and stuffed it in an envelope. He uncapped the pen he was using once again, intending to write an address, but suddenly realized he didn't know one. Why would he? He put the pen back where he found it and put the letter in his pocket, thinking.

An owl; that would be the best solution...but where could he get one? Draco's eyes darkened as he realized the answer to that question. The manor—that was his only hope since he didn't have any money and knew of no wizard post offices in the area, nor outside of Hogsmeade at all. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves and picturing in his mind the safest place to appear, Draco closed his eyes and apparated.

There it was; Draco's childhood home and the Malfoy residence for countless generations. Draco scowled and made sure the way was clear before darting towards the back entrance. This he did without incident, but he was unpleasantly surprised when the door suddenly opened from the other side and he had to dive out of the way to avoid being hit or seen.

Lucius slipped through the door quickly; starting down the stone steps at a fast pace before the door had even closed behind him. Draco held his breath, hoping against hope that his father would not turn around and spot him. The footsteps soon died away, but Draco did not move until he heard a distant popping noise; almost too faint to hear but enough for Draco to know he was safe, if only for the moment.

He stood up and brushed the bits of grass from his clothes, so as not to leave any traces of his having been there while he was inside. He pressed his ear against the door, straining to hear voices or movement, but there was nothing. Slowly and carefully, Draco opened the heavy wooden door and entered.

The door closed and pitch blackness immediately surrounded Draco. He hesitated, feeling around for the walls, before proceeding. The darkness worried him—anyone could be hiding anywhere—but then, he reminded himself, Lucius wasn't an issue, at least for the time being.

Feeling along the stone wall, Draco made his way slowly to the foyer, which was, at least, lit by some natural light. It was surprisingly cold inside the manor—and _silent_—and Draco briefly wondered what had come over it. An instant later he realized he was being stupid. Both his parents were most likely running from the Ministry officials, who would have searched the manor first and upturned some things in their search of the place. Looking around, Draco now saw that it wasn't as tidy as it used to be; tables were thrown over, curtains ripped from their windows. It would explain the darkness, too—Lucius, if he had been hiding there, would want it to appear deserted.

Draco stood, pensive for a moment, but then shook himself and muttered, "The _owl_. Get the owl." He tiptoed across the room and started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. If he was right in thinking that neither of parents would even remember the owl when they left the manor, then it should still be in his usual home of the attic.

Draco reached the third floor and ran to the far end of the hallway that greeted him. He threw open the short door in the corner and headed up the steep, eerily dark steps behind it. His eyes gently adjusted to the dark once again and he looked around, growing doubtful. Perhaps Lucius had taken it after all...he may have figured the messenger bird to come in handy sometime.

Draco sighed, defeated. And then he saw it. A slight ruffling of grey feathers in the corner and a flapping noise as the owl took off and gracefully landed on Draco's shoulder. Draco patted the pet quickly and whispered his apology for not having any food with him. It stuck out its leg nobly and Draco attached his letter. "Thanks," he whispered as the beautiful creature took off through a hole in the roof.

x x x

Hermione shivered in the corner of her cell as a dementor swept past, sucking emotions from the surrounding air as it went. _Four days_, Hermione kept telling herself, _just four days and I'll be out_. This phrase ran itself like a broken record through Hermione's head and although she couldn't be entirely sure if she would be found guilty and returned again to this awful place, she decided that worrying about that was for later; for now she had to focus on keeping her sanity.

She remembered that Sirius, having spent thirteen years in Azkaban and come out with most of his wits about him, had focused on the simple fact that he was innocent to get him through. This sounded like a good enough plan until Hermione realized that she wasn't, in fact, innocent. She _was _a murderer; she _had_ killed those men. Worse, who had she really benefited by doing so? Killing a couple Death Eaters didn't save anyone at St. Mungo's that day—all those patients, they had still died...Neville had still died.

Hermione curled into a tighter ball and looked up through the barred window in the ceiling. Would she make it four days in this isolated, chilling prison? Away from human contact and any source of happiness imaginable? Hermione shook her head as if to physically rid herself of these thoughts and stared up through the window once more to the grey sky above.

She was wondering if there was ever a blue sky over the island or if the ministry mad sure it was always overcast for further depression of the prisoners—or perhaps even a way of hiding the island from view of muggle planes—when a shadow swept across the window. Hermione blinked. What was that? She squinted through the window, standing to get a better look, and figured after a second that she had probably imagined it. Great. She was already losing her mind.

But then she saw it again, closer this time. She waited to see it again, still staring fixedly, and after a minute or so a large bird of some sort landed on one of the metal bars. It was nice to see some other form of life besides the dementors, but what was this bird—an owl she noticed a moment later when it fluttered down to her cell floor—doing out here? The bird stuck out its leg and the letter strapped to it rid Hermione of her confusion.

_Who could possibly be writing to me?_ she thought, untying the letter. A list of people ran through her mind: Harry, Ron, Mrs. Weasley... Without further thought, she slid her finger under the flap of the envelope—which looked more like the processed paper muggles used than the yellowish parchment most wizards did—and pulled out the letter inside.

Her insides squirmed as she recognized the handwriting and she decided she best take a deep breath before reading the message all the way through:

_Hermione,_

_I hope that you are alright after all that happened the night of the duel—I read about Dumbledore's death in the _Prophet. _I realize that sending this is putting us both at risk, which is why I will not confide where I am here. While we're both on the run from the Ministry (or did they forget about the affair at St. Mungo's in all the excitement after the duel?) I know that meeting is a danger, but I desperately need your help._

_My father escaped that night—I'm not sure if you heard—and has been trailing me ever since. I'm out of money, have no place to stay safely, and sooner or later I know he'll catch up with me if I don't find a safe hideout soon._

_I don't know if you're in any position to help me, or if this letter will even find you, but beware in your reply that this is my family owl and so any mail is that much more likely to be intercepted._

_I've missed you._

It wasn't signed, but Hermione knew that Draco had sent it. "I've missed you, too," she whispered in response to the last line of the letter as if he was there with her in the cell. How desperately she wished he was. It had been seemingly an eternity since they'd last _really_ met. The times he'd been disguised in a Death Eater's mask she didn't count. Those weren't the times she remembered him for.

A tear slipped for her eye as Hermione slid down the wall and sat on the cold, hard floor. She wanted to brush the tear away and not waste any more time wallowing in self-pity than she already had since the beginning of the war, but her miserable surroundings and depressing situation made her do so anyway and it was not for another hour or so, when Hermione finally managed to get a grip on her emotions, that she thought about writing a response.

The owl was still there; that was not an issue. Ink and a quill—that was a different problem. She looked around at what she had to work with: absolutely nothing. Dirt outlined the blocks in the floor, but that was hardly of use; it couldn't even be used as ink without water, and even then, it would undoubtedly rub off before it even reached Draco. She supposed she could just wait until Thursday when, hopefully, she would be released.

A dementor glided by slowly outside her cell door and she shivered as a deeply unpleasant chill washed over her. She resumed her newfound favorite activity of looking out the window and found that somehow, though seemingly impossible, the sky was even darker and greyer than it had been. She glanced at her watch in confusion. Was it really evening already? No; it was only quarter to four. Was it going to rain, then? Hermione groaned at the thought—something to make this whole experience even _worse._

Soon, droplets of rain started falling through the window, splattering on the stone floor with quiet plopping noises. Hermione crawled over to a corner furthest from the rain and as far as she could get from the barred door, by which dementors passed regularly. It was in this little corner, the safest place in her cell, that Hermione drifted off, forgetting, for the time, her many worries and problems.

x x x

A sharp pain in her right arm woke Hermione from her two-hour nap. She ignored it at first, figuring she was just lying on arm the wrong way and it was tingling. When the sharp pain came again, and then again, the last time accompanied by a irritating chirping sound, Hermione realized it would be best to open her eyes.

The owl that had brought Draco's letter was hooting angrily by her right side. She looked questioningly down at it and it bit her again—hard—on the arm. "Ow!" she gasped as she was greeted with what was a surprisingly large amount of pain, considering birds don't even have teeth. She glared at the bird and looked down at her aching arm. To her horror, blood was dripping down her forearm to her wrist and then onto the floor.

Hermione was tempted to hit the owl and shoo it away, but her anger faded when she saw it searching the ground hopefully for something—probably food. The plate in the corner, which was filled with food two or three times a day—she hadn't figured out how many yet—by a guard, was empty and she had nothing to offer the poor animal, which was probably starving. "I'm sorry," she whispered to the bird, "I don't have anything for you, but I guess you could go back home..." she looked over at Draco's letter on the floor beside her hand and wondered how she would reply to it if the owl left. Who knew if she would be let go on Thursday? What if no one showed up to defend her and the judge was unsympathetic? She would never be able to help him if she didn't have the owl.

But there was still the problem of ink and a quill. A grotesque thought came to her, and she pushed it aside, unwilling to carry through with such an idea. But and the rain continued to pour, the sky getting darker and darker by the minute, and the owl hooting more and more fiercely as time went on, she realized she may have no alternative.

Frowning at herself, she slowly gestured for the bird to come closer to her. "Come here, I need you for a second," she whispered soothingly as the owl looked suspiciously at her then slowly started to venture towards her. "That's right, a little closer now; I'm not going to hurt you." This was a blatant lie, but what did the owl know? It finally reached her and allowed her to pat it gently on the head.

It closed its eyes and seemed content and no longer scared of her, so after a moment, as she was patting it kindly, she quickly slid her hand down to its back, where the feathers were longer and plucked one right off the bird.

The owl was not happy about this; it pecked Hermione fiercely on the arm again and hooted indignantly, hopping away from her quickly. It flapped its wings several times and Hermione feared it would take off, but after a minute it calmed down and went back to searching the cracks in the floor for something to eat.

Now was the really horrible part. Hermione thought for a moment that she should just take her chances about getting out on Thursday and replying then, but then she was completely out of luck if she got thrown back in here. Not to mention the fact that Draco needed help _now_. He had said himself he didn't know how long he had before his father or the Ministry caught up with him and who knew how long he had until he caught some horrible disease from lack of shelter or died of starvation. If she wanted to really help him, she would have to write the letter now.

Closing her eyes and scowling, Hermione took her new quill in her right hand and dipped the point into the stream of blood running down her arm, trying not to get sick at the idea of what she was doing. She then reached for Draco's letter and started writing her message beneath where he had written his.

It took her over an hour to complete the rather short message, but her makeshift ink and quill were not that easy to work with. When she completed it, she was happy to find that it was legible and that her solution to his problem might just work out. She only hoped that he didn't realize what she'd written it in.

Hermione blew on the last part of the message to dry it and folded the paper, taking up the feather once again to write Draco's name on the outside. She was halfway through this process when she realized this was probably not the best idea if she didn't want the letter t be intercepted. She was, after all, in prison—surely there were wizards watching the skies around here, not to mention Lucius, who may be wondering at that moment where the family owl was. She finished writing out the name anyway and called the owl over to her once more. It didn't move.

"Oh come on, I'm _really_ not going to hurt you this time." She waved her paper in the air as proof, "See? I've finished it; I just need you to deliver it for me." Upon seeing the letter, the animal seemed to understand what was happening, but it still approaching Hermione tentatively. When it finally reached her and stuck out its leg, she used the string Draco had used to tie the paper back onto the owl's leg. After it was secured, she patted the owl gratefully on the head again and said softly, "Take this back to Draco; if anyone else tried to take it _do not let them_. Understand?" The beautiful creature blinked up at her and Hermione wasn't at all sure if it understood. "Thank you," she said, taking it over to the window and letting fly off into the rainy night sky.

x x x

Draco had barely slept at all the entire night; every part of his body ached from lying on the ground up against a tree several miles from the manor and he was intensely cold from strong wind and his still-wet clothes. Looking at his pale fingers, which were turning a light shade of blue at the ends, Draco realized that if he did not find some sort of shelter soon, he was going to die of cold. The meager fire he had created with his wand did little to dry his clothes, and he could not make the fire bigger for fear that someone would notice it from the road not too far away and come to investigate. He hadn't eaten in what felt like years and he was so hungry he felt like his stomach was eating away at his insides. He was not in good shape, which was why the sight of the family owl brought him immense relief.

He first saw it at a distance, silhouetted against the dawn sun, which Draco welcomed for its warmth. As the owl got closer his hope increased more and more and he got the strength to stand and offer his arm as a perch for the bird to rest on. There was the paper he had sent, attached to the owl's foot, and his heart fell momentarily as he thought the letter had never reached Hermione and that the owl hadn't been able to find her. He saw, though, as he untied the letter, which was damp and ripped at one corner, that his name was written blotchily in red across the front and hope filled him once more.

He rapidly unfolded the paper and skipped over the section he had written, jumping immediately to the part in red, the part Hermione had written:

_I'm sorry you are in such a position, but I'm afraid I'm not in much of a better one and so will not be able to help you as much as I would. The Ministry did not, unfortunately, forget about me after the duel; I am now in Azkaban until my hearing on Thursday and my resources are limited. _

_I can, however, offer you something that may help you. My London apartment is now not an area the Ministry frequently searches, as they have already arrested me, and should be a safe place for you to stay for as long as you need. The address is below, and although my keys are undoubtedly still inside the place somewhere, I'm sure the door will open with a simple unlocking charm. _

_I don't know whether or not I will see you shortly; everything rests on my Thursday hearing. Whatever the case, I hope you're alright and that the apartment will capably hide you from both Lucius and the Ministry._

_Hermione_

_P.S. There may not be any edible food left there, but I have a stash of emergency muggle money under the kitchen sink—use all you want of it._

Draco glanced at the address at the bottom and folded up the letter hoping that someday, somehow, he would be able to repay Hermione for this. His gratitude was so great that he had no idea how he would be able to express it in the letter he planned on writing as soon as he was safe and warm in the apartment that she had so graciously offered him.

Without further hesitation, Draco gathered all his things together as best he could with his barely functional hands and prepared to apparate to London. A loud hoot right beside his ear made him remember that his family owl was still on his shoulder. The bird snapped its beak a couple times, a gesture Draco recognized as its being hungry. "Meet me in London," he told the pet quietly, shaking his arm and sending it off, back toward the rising sun. Checking one last time to see that he had everything, Draco disappeared with a small popping noise.

x x x

**Author's Note**: Thank you for reading! Happy holidays!


	18. Chapter 18

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 18**

Draco arrived instantly in an alleyway in London he knew to be dangerously close to the Ministry building, but it just so happened that Hermione's home was in that area. Before she had gotten in trouble with the Ministry it had probably been convenient for her—after all, she used to work for them, in the very position Draco had been in before _he_ got into trouble with the Ministry. He wondered for a moment if the job might be cursed and then realized that their bad luck had started _before_ either of them had worked for the Ministry. It seemed, sadly, to be the fate of them both.

Draco found the address Hermione had given him with little difficulty and slipped quietly into the building without being noticed. Her apartment was up the stairs and to the left, from what he could tell by its number. When he reached it, the door was, as Hermione had predicted, locked. With a quick look around for nosy neighbors, Draco pulled out his wand and whispered, "_Puertabra,_" the more powerful unlocking charm his father had taught him as a boy. Draco had yet to find a locked door aside from the one leading to his father's study that the charm had not worked on.

As expected, the door before him swung open and Draco quickly got inside the apartment and pushed the door shut, bolting it behind him. Aside from quite a bit of dust and a few things that had been thrown around—either when Hermione was packing to leave with Potter and Dumbledore or when the Ministry officials had searched it after she didn't appear at the hearing—the place was in good shape and Draco smiled at the thought that finally, at least for a little while, he was comfortable and safe.

He threw his stuff on the sofa and gave himself a tour of his new living quarters. The place was rather small, with just a bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen and living room area. Draco had the misfortune when he peeked in the bathroom of catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He nearly had a heart attack. Never, never in his whole life had he looked so horrible: mud a dirt was streaked all over his body; his sweatshirt was torn in various places; his pants would probably never be their original color again; there were cuts and bruises all over his face and hands; and his hair was so disgusting that he barely recognized it as his own. It was astounding that he hadn't been given more attention on the street for his appearance. People had probably suspected him to be some poor, homeless man with nothing apart from what he wore and carried with him.

It took Draco a moment to realize that this picture was entirely accurate.

Since he couldn't bear the sight of himself a second longer, Draco pushed getting food, replying to Hermione's letter, and finding new clothes aside and moved taking a shower to the top of his priorities list.

x x x

Hermione slept about as poorly as Draco did that night. She woke up cold and in immense pain from her uncomfortable position on the floor. The sky outside was still grey, but at least it had stopped raining. _I guess that's something_, she thought to herself half-heartedly. Unfortunately, it was little. She was still in a terrible situation, and would be for the next two days and six hours. Yes, she was counting—by the second sometimes. Her already gloomy predicament got worse whenever she thought about it.

A few hours passed and Hermione could practically _feel_ herself going insane. All her hope, anything that was keeping her going, it was all being drained away, intensifying her unhappiness all the time. It was when she counted the stones that made up the walls of her cell for the third time that she knew that if she didn't find something to occupy her mind until Thursday, she would never be able to recover from her stay there. Worse, if she was not completely in her right mind during the hearing, they might see her as mentally unstable and therefore unfit to be released from Azkaban. Hermione began to cry in frustration at the very thought and immediately tried to shove it out of her mind.

_So, what's something to do...?_ Hermione wondered, looking around her cell as if expecting to find something new there, although it didn't surprise her when she found nothing. She sighed to herself and suddenly wished that the Malfoy owl was still there; it may not have been the nicest creature, but it had kept her company nonetheless. Not to mention that it was a beautiful thing to look at.

Hermione returned her gaze to the window for the thousandth time and wondered if maybe, just maybe, Draco had gotten her letter and been able to read it. And then maybe, just maybe, he was now safely settled in her London home and was just sitting down to write her a reply.

The hope that this gave Hermione lasted all afternoon, and when the sky was just on the verge of being too dark for her to see anything in it, a shadow swept across her window.

x x x

When he felt clean again—a good hour or so after he had arrived—Draco washed his clothes in the kitchen sink and hung them up in the bathroom to dry, hoping that they would soon look decent enough for him to go outside briefly and get some food and more clothes.

A wave of exhaustion hit Draco after he accomplished this task and he wrapped himself in several blankets he'd found in the storage closet, preparing to lie down on the sofa for what was to be a nice and warm, long sleep. He had settled down and even closed his eyes, sighing in comfort, when a sharp tapping sound interrupted his plans. He ignored it at first, thinking it to be some neighbor hammering together a piece of furniture or something, but when it persisted, he opened his eyes to find his owl hovering outside the window, glaring at him.

Draco groaned and got up, opening the window just enough to let the bird through, but closing it quickly so as not to allow in any more cold breeze than was absolutely necessary. It was still September—why, then, was it so cold? He figured he must be ill.

The owl landed gracefully on the table and snapped its beak, irritated, at Draco, clearly desperate for food. Draco looked wearily at it, wishing more than anything that he just had some sort of suitable food he could give it and get back on the welcoming sofa. As it was, he didn't have any kind of bird food on him and it was doubtful that Hermione, who after all did not have an owl, would have anything for one in her house. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked over at his clothes, which were still dripping water. There was no way he would be able to put those on and go outside without catching pneumonia for a few more hours at least. He started looking through the kitchen cupboards, hoping that somewhere Hermione might have some non-perishable food that might be edible for an owl.

There was nothing in the first cupboard except glasses and plates, nothing in the second except spices, and nothing in the third cupboard except for a cereal box with a mouse-nibbled hole in the corner and then the mouse itself, now dead, in the back. Draco frowned, repulsed, and quickly closed the cupboard door. _I'll deal with that later_, he thought, knowing that in reality he probably wouldn't.

He was beginning to lose hope and the owl was screeching louder each second—pretty soon the noise would arouse curiosity amongst the neighbors. In the final cupboard, Draco found some canned soups and stale crackers. He reached for the crackers and noticed that the expiration date had passed some time ago, but aside from being incredibly hard, they seemed alright. He shrugged, shaking some of the crackers onto a plate and setting it before his loud pet, hoping it would never know the difference.

His hopes were fulfilled; the animal attacked the plate with ferocity and sat there munching for some time, apparently satisfied.

Glad that he had overcome that obstacle, Draco patted his owl on the head fondly and headed back towards the sofa, still wrapped heavily in blankets. Once again, he was about to rest when something caught his eye: Hermione's desk, on which he had placed her letter before washing his clothing. He felt a pang of guilt, feeling that he should write a very grateful reply to Hermione sooner rather than later. He just lay there for a moment, debating whether to sleep or get up one last time to write the letter and send it. The guilty feeling in his stomach won out in the end and he dropped off the sofa, stumbling over to the desk and, taking a muggle pen sticking out of a can containing many others like it, started to write out a message on the top page of Hermione's notepad.

When he finished it, about fifteen minutes later due to his tiredness, he gestured wearily to the owl, which looked as though it was not quite done eating but came anyway. It took Draco much longer than it normally would have to tie the letter to its leg, as he could hardly keep his eyes open. He had just finished and was about to send the owl off when he remembered the sickly red color Hermione had written her message in and how she had mentioned the limitedness of her resources in Azkaban. He took the pen he had used to write the letter and tied it to the bird's remaining free leg. As he walked over to the window, he whispered to it, "Make sure none of these letters are intercepted, alright? The last thing Hermione needs is to be caught corresponding with a known Death Eater."

Draco opened the window and as the owl fluttered off his shoulder to the sill, he promised it apologetically, "I'll get you some better food tomorrow." It hooted understandingly and flew off, leaving its master—finally—in peace.

x x x

Hermione smiled broadly when the now very familiar owl landed neatly on the floor in front of her and stuck out its leg. Hermione quickly unattached the paper containing the massage and unfolded it, but before she could start reading, Draco's owl got her attention by hooting softly. She looked up concernedly, afraid that it was still hungry, but noticed that it was now sticking out its other leg. Curious, Hermione leaned over and untied the second string. A second later, a muggle pen, one like those she used at home, fell into her hand. She sighed gratefully and turned back to the letter.

_Hermione,_

_I don't actually know of any words that can express how eternally grateful I am to you. Trust me when I say that without your offer, my chances of surviving would have been slim to none. As it is, I think I'm coming down with something—from being cold and wet for so long, no doubt. In any case, if there is anything I can do to repay you, _anything_, please tell me. I'm afraid that showing up to vouch for you at your hearing wouldn't do either of us a whole lot of good, but if things go badly, I can always help you break out of Azkaban._

_I look forward to possibly seeing you again on Thursday and hope that by the end of the hearing, all your problems with the Ministry will finally be solved. If at all possible, I plan to be there._

Hermione read the letter over several times before it got too dark to see it. _What would it be like_, she started to wonder, _if I _did _get out of her on Thursday, and then finally went home and met Draco, after all this time? _They had certainly gotten on fine towards the end of school, but that seemed like ages ago, and to finally meet again might be...awkward.

She remembered their almost-meeting at the Ministry, when she had suddenly panicked for no reason and apparated to avoid seeing him. She knew she wanted to see him again, but like she had that time in Gloria's office, Hermione worried about what it would be like should they have to separate again. And she knew they almost certainly would have to. Even if she got off, Draco was still running from various people, and would be for probably a long time. There would, without question, soon be a time when he would no longer be safe in her apartment, when Lucius, or the Ministry, or someone else would catch on.

But then, maybe she could go with him... She laughed softly at the very thought. As much as she would prefer that to yet another goodbye, getting on the Ministry's bad side _again_ was probably not the wisest choice she could make.

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. Despite her worries about the awkwardness of her and Draco's eventual meeting, she fell asleep hoping with all she had that she _would_ get off on Thursday and be able to go home at last.

x x x

Hermione woke up the next morning as uncomfortable, though not quite as unhappy, as she had the day before. It took her a moment to stretch out and become oriented, but almost the instant she was fully awake, Hermione pulled out the letter and pen she had received the previous afternoon. She had wanted to write her reply the previous evening, but it had gotten too dark for her to do so, and at any rate, it gave her something to do that morning instead of stare blankly at the wall while slowly losing her mind.

When she'd first started writing, Draco's owl was sleeping peacefully at her side, its head tucked under its wing. It woke up after a time, while Hermione was still working on her reply. After a longer time, Hermione's companion became _very _eager to get off this foggy, dreary island and return to its owner. It made this clear by hooting noisily and occasionally pecking Hermione on the foot, something she was not happy about.

"Ow! Hold on, I'm almost done," she said, shooing the owl away with her left hand as she finished up the message with her right. "Alright, I'm done, come back over here." The grey bird hurried over and rapidly stuck its leg out. Hermione put her pen inside her robes and retied the piece of paper Draco had sent—which now also contained her reply—back to the ready owl's leg. When she was finished, she let it clamp onto her arm and took it over to the window, where she whispered her thanks and watched as it flew off into the fog, quickly disappearing from view.

The most thrilling part of her day now over, Hermione slowly wandered back to her spot on the floor, wasting away the time between then and her hearing, which would take place the very next afternoon.

x x x

Draco woke up on Hermione's sofa not a few hours after falling asleep, as he'd expected, but _many_ hours later. It was, in fact, nine o'clock the following morning when Draco finally opened his eyes. He lay there for a while after waking as well, allowing himself to enjoy this absolute comfort and allow his body to recover for a bit. He assumed that he would have at least a week or so there—it was surely one of the last places his father, or the Ministry, would think to look—but no one could be completely certain, especially since he would have to leave occasionally to get food, thus presenting a time to be spotted.

As if on cue, at this very thought, his stomach grumbled loudly and his insides ached from hunger. Understanding that it was probably time to get something to eat before he got really sick and wasted away, Draco got up and stretched as he stepped over to the kitchen. The money was, as Hermione had promised, in a small box under the sink, and although Draco had very little sense of the worth of muggle currency, he had a feeling that Hermione's stash would be more than enough for what he needed.

Just to be sure, he gathered all the bills in a tight wad and stuffed it in the pocket of his now almost-dry sweatshirt, which he put on despite its very filthy appearance. The first stop he would make would be to get some new clothes, that was clear.

Stepping out into the hallway with his hood concealing most of his head, Draco took a quick look around and closed the front door behind him, muttering a locking charm under his breath. He heard the bolt slide into place on the other side and he slipped his wand into his pocket alongside the money, heading towards the stairwell leading to the lobby.

Draco was fairly good at getting around the muggle world on his own, despite his lack of experience. He walked around for a bit, trying to find some sort of cheap clothing store that would suit his needs. He wanted to, if possible, avoid big, crowded paces, as there he would have more of a chance of being recognized. Then again, it was easier to hide in a crowd than in a deserted area. He wasted a minute or so on the street corner thinking this over while his stomach gave another very audible growl.

Draco crossed the street and decided that he wouldn't get very far—crowded store or not—if he fainted out of lack of nourishment. He entered a big supermarket about a block away and decided to buy the touristy, cheap clothes they sold on a few racks near the door. As far as shirts and sweatshirts were concerned, this selection of clothing was just fine—he wasn't about to be picky. He would have to get another pair of jeans somewhere else, since he didn't particularly cherish the idea of walking around in a pair of pink sweatpants with "MIND THE GAP" plastered on the back, which was all that this place sold. In the meantime, however, he bought some food—just enough to get him by for a few days, as he didn't want to spend all of Hermione's money. By the end of the day, he hadn't spent much of it at all; in fact, looking at the stack of notes, he could hardly notice that any had been taken.

Feeling fairly pleased with himself, he returned to the apartment in the early afternoon. He had barely closed the front door behind him when his attention was drawn to the window, where his owl was scratching and tapping in an irritated manner. Draco set down his few bags and opened the window, allowing the owl—which he no longer considered belonging to his whole family but only to him—to land on the table and, once he had detached the letter, to rummage in the stilll-open crackers box. "Wait, I've got something better," he said to the animal, hurrying over to his bags and pulling out the small bag of bird food he'd managed to find. He tore open the package and spilled some of the contents onto a plate. _I hope owls like the same sort of food that swallows and pigeons do_, he thought, examining the fine writing on the plastic bird food package. He noticed the owl seemed to be eating as much of the stuff as it could reach, so Draco shrugged and returned to the rest of the stuff he'd purchased.

Comfortably clothed and finally fed, about half an hour later, Draco grabbed Hermione's reply off of the table and settled back into his blankets on the sofa. Even wearing dry clothes for a change and being inside with all the windows closed, he felt startlingly cold, which made him worry about his health even more as he wrapped several layers of sheets and comforters around him, preparing to read Hermione's message:

_I'm pleased to hear that what little I can do while I'm trapped here in Azkaban is helpful to you. Do not worry about repaying the debt just yet—I'm sure I'll be able to think of some way that you can eventually. While your offer of help in escaping this place is strongly tempting, I do not think that it would put wither of us in better stead with the Ministry and I still hope, however fruitlessly, that by some stroke of luck I will be released tomorrow._

_As for my hearing, I agree that your vouching for me wouldn't do much more than land you in Azkaban beside me, though I thank you for thinking of it. Also, as much as I would be happy for you to be there in support, I think it's probably too dangerous for you to come—it's practically giving the Ministry an invitation to arrest you._

_Keep your fingers crossed for me and if all goes well, I'll see you tomorrow evening._

_Hermione_

Draco smiled, folding the letter back up and placing it neatly next to the last one he'd received, which lay on Hermione's desk.

Despite Hermione's worries about his appearing at the Ministry the following day—which were reasonable, after all—he thought she sounded pretty worried about how everything would turn out and would need all the support she could get. His presence might not be all that much, but considering that as far as he knew, Potter was still at St. Mungo's and neither he nor anyone else close to Hermione besides Draco himself knew her situation, it was likely that his support would be all she had.

Thinking over all this, Draco realized the way he might _really_ be able to help Hermione: telling someone who the Ministry _would_ believe about her hearing and let that person speak for her tomorrow. Potter was the obvious choice, but Draco was almost positive that he was still recovering at the hospital, and even if he wasn't, what was Draco going to do, knock on his front door and fill him in? He laughed aloud at the very thought. What reason did Harry have to believe him, or not turn ihim in, for that matter? Even if he did listen to Draco—which was seriously unlikely—there would be a _lot _of explaining to do, and Draco was not sure if Hermione's friends knew about their relationship or if she wanted them to, even. He doubted both ideas.

He ran his fingers through his hair in thought and after a moment decided that he was probably too late to act now, and that he would decide on a plan of action—if necessary, that it—after Hermione's hearing.

x x x

"Courtroom three, Ms. Granger. Right down here."

Hermione followed Mr. Cole down a Ministry hallway, which was filled with bustling witches and wizards wandering hurriedly from department to department, hardly noticing Hermione or Cole. She found her heartbeat getting steadily faster as she walked on, her nerves getting the best of her. She took a deep breath—without much result—as they turned a sharp corner and she ran into someone standing outside a dark wooden door marked with a big black 3.

"I'm sorry, I didn't—" Hermione started to apologize but stopped when the person turned around.

Head hooded in a baggy navy blue sweatshirt and large sunglasses covering half of his face, Draco turned around as Hermione stumbled into him and smiled when he realized who it was. "Don't worry about it," he said.

Hermione seemed to still be in shock at this sudden meeting, but then her facce broke into a truly happy smile and she couldn't resist; she threw her arms around Draco's neck and hugged him tightly, surprising him slightly. She opened her mouth to speak, momentarily forgetting completely where she was and why, when Mr. Cole grabbed her by the wrist and abruptly dragged her into the courtroom, closing the door behind them before she'd said a single word.

Hermione meant to complain about the means by which she'd been torn from a meeting she had been anticipating for some time, but her irritated words dried up in her throat as her eyes fell upon the judge who was to hear her, a little man off to the side who looked like a secretary, a bunch of mixed witches and wizards on the other side, and a small group of people she didn't recognize but figured to be reporters, as some held quills and notepads while others clutched cameras.

"Ms. Granger, you have been brought here by order of the Ministry of Magic for the murder of two men, failure to attend your first scheduled hearing, corre—" started the judge, a strained-looking older woman who looked as though she hadn't smiled ina good decade. Hermione knew in the back of her mind that she shouldn't interrupt, but she was so nervous that she couldn't think properly.

"I can explain why I didn't attend my hearing! It was Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, they asked me to help them. The needed me and couldn't wait until my hearing was over, and they knew if I was convicted I—"

"Ms. Granger, please do not interrupt," said the judge, whose name, according to the plaque in front of her, was Tilda Haden.

"I apologize Ms. Haden, but you need to know that I wasn't just running away from the Ministry. If Dumbledore were here, he would—"

"Ms. Granger, you will have a time to speak but it is not now! Please remain silent!" Haden said sternly. Hermione could hear the scratching of the reporters' quills though she was not looking at them. "Now, in addition to homicide and disappearance before your instructed hearing time, you are accused of corresponding with a man wanted by the Ministry for being a Death Eater." She looked down at a set of documents before her, "A Mr. Draco MAlfoy. Do you have any information regarding where this man is?"

Hermione stared up in horror at the judge, shocked into silence. How did the Ministry find out? What did they know? She needed to warn Draco and he was just outside the door, _waiting_ to be caught.

"You may speak now, Ms. Granger," said Judge Haden exasperatedly. A couple of men in the corner chuckled.

Hermione recovered from receiving this startling bit of information and said firmly, "No, I do not know where Draco Malfoy is. I haven't seen him since school."

"Do you realize that any information you have regarding Mr. Malfoy or any other supporters of You-Know-Who might save you a return to Azkaban?" asked the judge.

Hermione didn't hesitate. "I have not been in communication with Draco Malfoy since the start of the war."

Haden frowned. "We ave evidence to the contrary. This past Monday, a guard at Azkaban prison who I will not name witnessed a medium-sized grey owl leave your area carrying a letter. The owl managed to get away with the letter before the guard could get a firm hold on it, but he clearly made out the name 'Draco Malfoy' on the outside. Do you deny that you wrote the letter and that such an owl left your cell with it?"

I have no information regarding Draco Malfoy," said Hermione, ignoring the question.

Ms. Haden looked at Hermione a moment, clearly a little annoyed, but she left the matter and moved on, "As for your other charges, you are now free to speak your defense."

Hermione hesitated only a second, still disturbed by the news that the Ministry knew she had been in touch with Draco, but then continued where she'd left off. She explained why she had disappeared when she did and why, wishing all the while that either Dumbledore or Harry was there to verify what she said. After explaining that the two of them had needed a secret-keeper as soon as possible and that they couldn't risk her being locked up in prison, she went back to that day at St. Mungo's. "I was a guard; it was my responsibility to do whatever was possible to protect the patients ans staff at the hospital," she justified herself. "I tried stunning the Death Eaters as they attacked, but that was virtually worthless, seeing as they never stayed stunned for very long with all their comrades running around helping them. I didn't plan to kill any one of them, but when I was under pressure from three Death Eaters at once, I had to defend myself."

"Did it appear to you at the time that one of these three would attack you had you not struck one of them first?" asked Judge Haden.

"Yes! I mean, they _did_ attack me. With the Cruciatus Curse."

"Are you saying you acted in anger at the use of an Unforgivable Curse on you?"

Hermione faltered. "Well, I... They were Death Eaters, willing to go to any lengths to get done what they needed to. I was lucky to be hit with the Cruciatus Curse instead of _Avada Kedavra_, and I didn't know if I would escape so I hit one of them with the killing cure."

Haden nodded and inquired, "That was your first offense, so what of the other man you murdered?"

"That man had just been fighting a friend of mine, Neville Longbottom, when I found them. Neville looked severely injured, so I stopped the Death Eater before he could do any more harm to either Neville or me and then attended to Neville. I went to fetch a healer, but when we got back to him, Neville was dead." Hermione went silent and looked at the floor, wishing she didn't have to recall all that had happened that day.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Ms. Granger. But since you knew this person, is it possible that you acted a bit rashly to save him?"

"What do you mean?"

Judge Haden sighed, fiddling with the pieces of parchment before her. "Do you realize that you are the only guard on dutty that day that resorted to killing—not just once, either, but twice? Why were you the only one who had to break the law to follow through on your responsibility?"

Hermione was very worried now. Things were not going very well and she ha done all she could to present her case favorably. "I amy have acted unreasonably, but please understand the pressure of the situation: there were many more Death Eaters than guards and they had the advantage of surprise; everyone was screaming and running around frantically trying to escape and in the process doing nothing whatsoever to help the situation; all of us were stunning the attackers, as we'd been instructed, but had to deal with the frustration of this having no effect at all; people were dying and being hurt everywhere and we had no idea when the Death Eaters would let up... Even my description hardly does the situation justice. I wasn't thinking straight; I was in a panic like everyone else."

The judge thought about it for a long moment, gazing down at Hermione as if she hadn't the least bit of sympathy for her. She said after a pause, "I will discuss your case with my colleagues outside and we will return with a decision. Please be seated in the meantime." She and the group of people off to the side who had been listening intently the whole time stepped through a side door and Hermione was left alone with the secretary and reporters, who stopped scratching at their notepads after a second.

Hermione used the bare wooden chair she had been given for the first time and sat in growing anxiety, waiting for the people currently deciding her fate to return. It was probably a half an hour before they opened the side door and filtered back in, but Hermione was certain several days and nights had gone by. She was worried at first by the judge's grim expression, but then her more optimistic side kicked in and reminded her that Tilda Haden had probably not smiled in ten years.

When everyone had settled back into their seats and the reporters—along with Hermione—waited on the edges of their seats, Judge Haden cleared her throat and read from a slip of parchment that had clearly just been prepared, "Hermione granger, we find you guilty of the aforementioned charges—homicide, attempted escape from the law, and keeping valuable information from the Ministry. You have demonstrated a lack of emotional control in your actions, and though your intentions were not malicious, it would not be dafe to allow you to return to society until we are certain that your actions were a result of the pressure of the war. As such, you will be held in the prison of Azkaban for a year, subject to occasional inspections by psychological experts of St, Mungo's hospital, or until you are deemed safe by said professionals to be released."

The doors to the courtroom opened and Mr. Cole reappeared, walking towards Hermione, obviously intending to return her to Azkaban. She jumped out of her seat and backed away from him, yelling hysterically at Haden, "A year? What's going to be left of me after a year of that place? You think I'm emotionally unstable so you're sending me to _Azkaban_! Are you mad?" At this point Cole caught Hermione by the wrist and started dragging her to the door. She started sobbing, her shoulders quivering as she let herself be led away. "Please, Ms. Haden, I'm not a murderer! Let me go, _please_." The judge acted as though she hadn't heard Hermione at all as she gathered her things together. Hermione, understanding that nothing she said now would help ne rin the slightest, went quiet and followed Mr. Cole out the door qithout a struggle.

Draco, who had been sitting by the door outside, waiting to hear the news, leapt up and walked speedily with Hermione and Cole as they made their way down the hallway. "Hermione, what happened?" he asked concernedly, noticing her tears.

She shook her head sadly, "A year in Azkaban."

Draco's horrification was evident, despite the fact that most of his face was hidden. He started to speak but was cut off by Mr. Cole. "If you need to speak with Ms. Granger," he said, looking at Draco, "you can put your name down for an Azkaban visitor's pass with the department chair. You are not authorixed to speak with her now or at any other time by any other means." Cole put a binding spell on Hermione and just as they were about to disapparate, Hermione—who hoped it would be the last time she would have to say it—mouthed silently, _goodbye_, and disappeared.

x x x

**Author's Note: **Happy New Year! Hope you enjoyed!


	19. Chapter 19

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 19**

A week passed. And then another. Hermione and Draco exchanged many letters, despite the fact that neither of them had much news to share with every passing day. Absolutely nothing happened to Hermione in her isolated imprisonment, and Draco, imprisoned in his own way, found himself writing meaningless bits of information that were of absolutely no value and probably bored Hermione out of her mind.

He was very wrong in this regard; the letters she received were by far the most interesting things she had. Draco came to understand this as Hermione wrote him letters that became steadily more depressing to him as time passed. He knew that their exchanged words were all she had from the outside to cling onto, to keep her sane, and so he faithfully wrote to her every day.

He thought also of writing to Harry, not because he particularly felt like catching up with his old enemy, but because he knew Harry had the power to get Hermione out of Azkaban if only he knew she were there. That made it Draco's fault that Hermione was still trapped there, and the guilt he felt over that increased exponentially every week, but he just _couldn't_ bring himself to write a letter. What the hell would he say? He pictured it now:

_Hey, Potter, it's been a long time. How's life treating you? Listen, just thought you might want to know that your best friend Hermione was arrested a couple of weeks ago and thrown in Azkaban. How do I know that? Oh, it's complicated..._

No. He didn't think so.

Draco probably never would have just sat down and forced himself to write the damn thing if it hadn't been for a very disturbing letter he received from Hermione in early October:

_Many thanks, as always, for your last letter. I must once again refuse your offer to help me escape, though next time you ask I'm not sure I will be able to refrain from accepting._

_Nothing changes day to day, and yet Azkaban seems to be getting worse all the time. I find myself thinking of things I haven't thought of for years—memories from my childhood and early days at Hogwarts that I would just as soon not recall. I know the effect dementors have on people, but I never actually expected to _forget _whole pieces of my life at one particular time. It frightens me, but the only time I really remember anything—my past, who I am, what I'm doing here—is when I read your letters and remember that there's a whole world out there, one that I just forget every time my mind isn't occupied._

_I'm really terrified, but what can I do? There are times I wake up crying but don't remember the particular reason—_everything _seems a cause for tears. I know I must sound insane already, or at least overly dramatic, but I promise you I'm not even doing my predicament justice. _

_Please write back soon._

_Hermione_

She had never before described the horrors of what she was going through in such a way. She made complaints, sure, but she had never said anything even remotely resembling this, which showed clearly that Azkaban was getting to Hermione much more than Draco had thought. So much more, in fact, that he worried another month in there—at the most—and she would completely lose her mind.

If what she said was true, that she really was losing large chunks of her memory—her more favorable memories, by the sound of it—and it was only the letters that kept her aware and thinking, then it was only a matter of time before her memory completely went and the letters would no longer help her. She would live in that dank, dreary place with nothing but the deep depression of her own worst memories to occupy her.

Draco had to do something, so he sighed, sitting at Hermione's desk, and thought. After a while, he took one of her pens in hand and scratched out a brief, to-the-point message to Harry, whom he hoped would act upon receiving it:

_Hermione Granger was arrested by the Ministry of Magic in early September, she had a hearing, and has been sentenced to a year in Azkaban, where she is rapidly losing her mind. The Ministry will do anything you ask; you can get her out of there._

He left it unsigned, figuring there was no reason to confuse Harry further. As it was, he would probably be startled both by the news and how he had received it. To find such information out from an anonymous source Draco imagined, for the time being at least, was better than to find it out from a long-time foe. _I'm sure he'll find out soon enough; no need to rush that_, thought Draco, who was still pretty certain Hermione hadn't told either of her best friends about her new bond with their worst enemy.

Though Hermione had asked that he reply soon, Draco thought it better that he send the note to Harry first. He would just post another letter to Hermione as soon as his owl returned.

He didn't know then that he wouldn't be able to.

x x x

Harry woke up late the next day. His room was deserted, as was often the case when he first opened his eyes, and bright sunlight streamed through the open curtains, nearly blinding him. He rolled over, intending to doze just a few more minutes, when a low hoot made him reconsider. He looked around, squinting, but everything was to blurry to tell where the noise had come from. He fumbled around his bedside table for a moment, hearing the sound a second time, and finally found his glasses.

Sliding them on, Harry realized that the noise was coming from a pretty grey owl that was perched daintily on the window sill. He wasn't sure how it had gotten in, but he forgot about this as the owl fluttered over and stood where his glasses had rested a moment before, its leg attached to a piece of paper.

Harry detached the paper, thinking that the owl looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place where he'd seen it before, so he just unfolded the paper and read the brief message inside.

As soon as he finished, Harry leapt out of bed and grabbed his robes from the closet near the door. Slipping them on over the thin shirt and pants the St. Mungo's staff had given him, he wondered whether he should take the note seriously or if, perhaps, it was some trap or a weird joke. Why wouldn't the person sign it? Surely if whoever-it-was was really worried for Hermione's well-being, enough to send this letter, he or she would sign it. So why wasn't it signed?

Harry hesitated, thinking this over quickly. He technically wasn't supposed to leave St. Mungo's yet, and he wasn't sure if he could trust what the note said. After all, he hadn't seen Hermione since that day he'd first woken up and she'd rushed off, frustrated with how thick he was being. He had assumed that she was just recovering from everything that had happened, sorting things out with the Ministry, or even that she was just still upset about their last conversation or Dumbledore's death. While any of these things _could _be true, Harry had a feeling the information he'd just received from an unknown source was probably a lot closer to the truth.

Making up his mind, Harry grabbed his wand off the table and scribbled a quick note to the healers—thanking them and telling them he was recovered enough to leave—on a notepad lying there. He still wasn't sure if what the letter said about Hermione was true, but if it was, he needed to get Hermione out of Azkaban as soon as possible.

He decided to check her apartment first. If everything was alright, she would probably be there, if everything wasn't, then she wouldn't. Right? Well, it was a place to start.

He opened the window so the owl could fly back to the unknown person who had sent it and disapparated.

x x x

Draco stepped into Hermione's apartment and dropped the bag of food he'd just bought onto the floor, closing and bolting the door behind him. It took him a moment to realize that not everything was as he'd left it. The blankets usually on the sofa were strewn about the floor and the all the letters he and Hermione had exchanged were no longer resting neatly on the desk, but thrown around, lying in various ways on the chair and floor. It seemed as though someone had been searching the place in Draco's absence.

A small note sat on the table, and Draco picked it up hesitantly, reading:

_I will be back soon, Draco. You can't hide from me anymore._

It was from Lucius. He'd finally found Draco.

Draco wasted no time in throwing everything he owned into the sack he used as a traveling bag: his new clothes, the food, a blanket he hoped Hermione wouldn't miss...

An abrupt knock on the door disturbed Draco's packing. He froze, horrified, thinking it must be his father. He relaxed a little, though not much, when a familiar voice called out, "Hermione? It's Harry. Are you there?"

Draco did nothing, hoping that if he was perfectly silent, Harry would realize no one was home and leave. _Come on, just go to the Ministry; she'd not here_, Draco pleaded silently. "Hermione?" called Harry again. _Go away now_, commanded Draco mentally.

Harry did no such thing. He whispered some sort of spell and kicked the door open. "Herm—" Harry couldn't finish the thought, shocked as he was to find his long-time enemy standing awkwardly in the living room of his best friend's apartment. The two stared at each other for a long time, both at a loss for what to say. Draco was the first to recover, realizing that his time was running out.

"Potter. I see you got my note," he said, throwing a few more possessions into the sack.

"_Your_ note?" asked Harry, his head hurting out of extreme confusion.

"Yes. I assume that's why you're here—to see if Hermione really is gone. She is. I wasn't lying." He said this as he stepped over to the kitchen sink and opened the cupboard beneath it. The wad of currency notes Hermione had left there was still pretty thick, so Draco took a few and slipped them into his pocket, putting the rest back where he'd found them.

Harry paused before speaking, trying to think over why Draco could possibly be there—moving around the place quite comfortably, at that. All the situations he came up with were equally unlikely so he figured he better ask. "You're right; that's why _I'm_ here, but what the hell are _you_ doing here?"

Draco smirked at Harry's intense struggle to understand the situation. "I'm going to leave that to Hermione to explain. I've done my part—now you know what happened to her—and it's time you do yours: go to the Ministry and get her out of Azkaban." He tied the sack up and threw it over his shoulder, stepping past Harry to the open door. "Oh, and you may not want to dawdle; my father threatened to show up later, and I know how well you two get on," he added, leaving Harry alone with his confusion.

x x x

A couple of hours later Harry was led into the prison of Azkaban by a very harassed-looking Mr. Cole. It had taken quite a bit of time to finally get in to see the Minister, who was, of course, delighted to fit Harry into his busy schedule. After Harry explained Hermione's situation and why he was there, the Minister had called over a few wizards from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including Judge Haden, and there had been a good half an hour of discussion. The judge did not seem eager to alter her sentence, but the Minister forced her to do so, looking very flustered and saying that it all must have been a great misunderstanding.

"Yes, I think so," Harry had said, and that was all it took. He was taken immediately to Azkaban, a place he'd never planned on visiting, and was being led through cold, dark tunnels to Hermione's cell. He had his wand out, prepared for a dementor attack at any moment, but they were fortunate enough not to run into one of the infamous prison guards on their way to release Hermione.

When they arrived, she was staring at the wall, her eyes out of focus, her expression flickering every so often to one of fear or confusion. "Hermione?" asked Harry while Mr. Cole fumbled around for the key.

She frowned and blinked her eyes once, very hard, and turned to look at him. She looked stunned to find that there was actually someone standing there. "Harry?" she asked incredulously as Mr. Cole pushed open the door. Harry smiled and stepped inside the cell. Immediately, Hermione jumped to her feet and hugged him tightly, tears already streaming down her face. "Are you okay?" she asked, "Have you recovered and all?"

Harry laughed at her concern. "I'm _fine_, Hermione. Are _you_ alright? How long have you been here?"

Her expression darkened and she thought for a moment. "I...I'm not really sure. Too long."

Harry nodded. "Well, you don't have to waste any more time here; I talked to the Minister of Magic, and he realizes that you don't deserve a year here, that you're not "emotionally unstable," and he's agreed to let you go."

Hermione's eyes widened. "I can go? Just like that, I'm free?"

Harry smiled, leading her through the door, "That's it."

"But...how?"

"Let's just say the Ministry owed me a favor."

"Ah," said Hermione, an expression of dawning comprehension coming over her face, "I see. It was you." She paused as they made their way down the hallway. "But...how did you find out? About my being here, I mean? Was it in the _Prophet_, like in the summer?"

Harry hesitated before answering. He had an awful lot of questions for Hermione, but he would wait to spring them on her until she was home and comfortable. "Er...no. It doesn't matter, we'll talk about it later. For now, let's just concentrate on getting you safely home where you can have a decent meal and..." he shivered, "get warm. It's _freezing_ in here."

Hermione smiled, "That's sounds good." She yawned widely as they left the building and fog surrounded them, "I wouldn't mind a nap in my own bed, either."

Harry nodded understandingly and they apparated back to London.

x x x

Hermione fell asleep right after taking a shower and eating what little edible food was around, though it was only the early afternoon. Harry stayed, waiting patiently for his opportunity to talk to her when she woke up. He thought it would be a couple of hours later, but when nine o'clock passed, and then ten, he realized he was staying awake pointlessly. Hermione hadn't gotten any decent sleep in at least a month, and she wasn't likely to be conscious until the following morning. So Harry soon decided to call it a night and sleep on the sofa, which was already covered in blankets of various sorts.

When he woke up the next morning, Hermione was already awake, making coffee and reading a book in the kitchen as if her daily routine hadn't been altered at all by her recent stay in Azkaban. "'Morning, Harry," she said brightly as he stretched and put his glasses on. "I went out earlier to get some real food. I don't know what Dra—" Hermione caught herself just in time and coughed to cover her mistake, continuing, "Here's some toast and jam, if you want."

Harry examined her closely as he sat down at the table. There was something she clearly didn't want to share with him and it just so happened to be the very thing he wanted to know. "Er, Hermione? There's something I need to ask you about."

"Hmmm?" she said, taking another sip of her coffee while continuing to look at her book.

"It begins with how I found out about where you were. Somebody sent me an anonymous note." Hermione's eyes stopped skimming the page, though she continued to look at it while Harry spoke, "Since I didn't know who the person was, I wasn't sure I could trust them, so I came over here to see if you were around. Naturally, you weren't, but someone else was." Now Hermione turned to look at him, her anxiety evident in her eyes.

They sat in silence for an awkward moment, both understanding what the other must be thinking and neither wanting to pick up the conversation. Harry, sensing Hermione was still deeply hoping that Harry wasn't talking about who she thought he must be, said, "It was Malfoy." Hermione nodded once. "So...I'm a bit confused; you're going to have to fill me in. What was he doing here? And how did _he _know where you were when apparently no one else did? And why did he care that you got out? And why did he say Lucius Malfoy was coming, and—"

Hermione started at once. "He said Lucius was coming? When, today? Did Draco leave, then?"

"What? I don't know. Answer my questions first."

"Harry, I'm serious! What happened?"

Harry shrugged, "I honestly don't know. Malfoy had a bag full of stuff that he took with him, and yeah, he left, but I don't know where, or when Lucius was supposed to pop by, and I can't even guess unless you explain this to me, Hermione! I have absolutely _no_ idea what is happening! _Please_ tell me, I'm so incredibly confused about all of this, you couldn't even imagine it."

Hermione could tell that without his saying so, and she understood why he was. Had she been in his position, she would also have been confused beyond belief. Truth be told, she actually wasn't sure she understood everything that had happened any better than Harry, but she would have to give it a try. He wouldn't like what she said in all likelihood, but she knew she would have to tell him sometime and it seemed that that time was now. "Alright, Harry. This is a pretty long and complicated story, but I'll try to give it to you in a nutshell.

"I guess it really starts with Christmas. Remember at the feast, how I wasn't feeling so great? Well I went to this 'secret' tower I knew about and bumped into Draco there. While we were bickering like we usually do, his owl showed up and gave him a letter from Lucius, which he tried to throw into the fire, but which I, out of plain curiosity, picked up and read. It was about the war. He saw that I was reading it and we got into another fight about whether he should tell Dumbledore or not, and when I left the tower, nothing was really resolved. He got a couple more letters, and we agreed to meet on New Year's Eve to argue some more. Which we did, but um..." Oh, dear. How to explain this to Harry, who was listening intently across the table. This was more than a little awkward. "Well...I won't go into any details, but a sort of _bond_ formed between us that night, and it was really very weird at first, and we had a pretty intense fight, but then we, um, got to be really...close."

Harry's slightly sickened-looking expression was not encouraging. "Oh, Harry, he's not that bad. I mean, I know he was at times, and I can't really explain all that away, but he's not evil, like we always thought he was." Harry didn't look very convinced. "Look, I know you don't believe me, but it's true! Why else would he tell you where I was? Because he knew that you could help me, and he cared." She decided not to go too far down this path, seeing as Harry didn't look as though he was about to accept that Draco was suddenly this great person, and he had a lot of evidence to the contrary.

"Well, anyway, we got to be...good friends, and then the war came and he had to go be on the Dark Side—but only because if he didn't, the Death Eaters would kill him!" she added quickly, seeing Harry open his mouth to comment on this.

"Is that what he told you?" asked Harry skeptically.

"Yes, and I know its true," said Hermione firmly. Harry sighed and gestured for her to continue. "So then we didn't talk for a while because we were on opposite sides and then when I went to stay with you and Dumbledore we were both too busy and hiding from the Ministry and all, so it was impossible to communicate. He was at the duel, but I didn't know it was him at first because he was wearing a Death Eater's mask and he stopped Lucius from murdering me, but then Lucius knew what side he was really on, so Draco had to make a run for it.

"When everything had settled down after that and you had finally woken up at St. Mungo's, I came home to get some sleep and woke up to be arrested by some Ministry officials that had been informed that I was back in London. I was thrown in Azkaban for four days before my hearing, during which Draco wrote to me and explained his very unfortunate predicament. I offered my home for shelter and a hiding place from Lucius, but it seems Lucius found him anyway." She paused, wondering where Draco had gone and whether he had found another place to stay yet. After a while she brought her thoughts back to where she was and said, "So, does that explain most of your questions?"

Harry looked pensive. He seemed to be sorting out the great amount of new information Hermione had just given him in a fairly short span of time. He was very disturbed by most of it, and even more so that she had kept it all from him for so long. "Why didn't you tell me all that earlier?" he asked.

Hermione laughed, though Harry clearly was not in a humorous mood. "Really, Harry? You have to ask? If I had told you and Ron about my friendship with Draco, you would have blown up at me and then probably gone out and killed him or something. Not to mention the fact that you were seriously worried about the war during those last few weeks of school and all the rest of the time I saw you up 'til the duel. I knew the last thing you needed to know was that your best friend had betrayed you and befriended your worst enemy."

Harry thought about that for a second then nodded in agreement. "You're right. What else is new."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Then do you agree that I'm right about Draco, too?"

"No," said Harry immediately, but, seeing Hermione roll her eyes in frustration, added, "but I'm willing to consider it. It seems he's saved your life a couple times now, after all."

Hermione smiled broadly. "Thanks, Harry. I know that you were probably much happier not knowing all that I just told you, but trust me in that Draco is on our side. I'd bet anything on it."

Harry didn't say anything, taking a piece of toast and hoping Hermione was right. He wanted to take all of what Hermione said had happened at face value and leave it at that, but he couldn't help wondering, with all he knew of Malfoy's personality, that he was somehow using Hermione for some kind of scheme. Maybe he had said he wasn't a supporter of Voldemort, but that didn't mean it was true. He had certainly lied before.

At any rate, Hermione wouldn't hear anything of the sort, so Harry would just have to sit back, wait for this all to play out, and pray that Hermione didn't get hurt along the way.

x x x

Harry stayed at Hermione's for a little more than a week, just to keep her company until most everything was back to normal. Hermione was pleased that he was there to talk to, thinking that if he hadn't been, she would have been as lonely, if not more so, than she had been at Azkaban, where her only contact was with Draco.

The fact that she had not heard from Draco since her release from Azkaban concerned Hermione greatly. She worried more as each day passed and she still received no word of where he was or if he was alright. She considered asking Harry to borrow Hedwig to send him a letter, wherever he may be, but decided that this was probably not the most reasonable course of action. Harry had taken the news that Draco was now Hermione's friend pretty well, considering the circumstances, but she didn't want to push him. For the entire time he was there, she was careful not to mention Draco whenever avoidable. It seemed to put a space between her and Harry that she didn't like and she knew he was still fairly confused about the whole thing in general and somewhat hurt that she hadn't thought him reasonable enough to tell about it before now.

When two weeks passed and there was still no word from Draco, Hermione ordered a subscription to the _Daily Prophet_, hoping, but not really believing, that some day there might be word of what had happened to him. She obviously didn't want him to be arrested by the Ministry, but for a while she thought this might be a solution to the problem of Lucius, as a place in Azkaban would keep him safe, despite other unfortunate side effects. Her views on this matter changed drastically when she learned that a recently captured Death Eater had been given the Dementor's kiss for his crimes. That would almost undoubtedly be worse than the punishment for Lucius had planned, so Hermione stopped hoping to find news of Draco in the _Prophet_.

What she did hope to find in the newspaper was a possible place for her to work now that the war was over and she had nothing to live off of except the remnants of her emergency stash and Harry's generosity, if it was absolutely necessary. She went to a couple of interviews at the Ministry but faced problems with getting offered a position both because many recognized her from the unfavorable portrait the _Prophet_ had printed back in April and because she had not completed school. She soon found that arguing about how it was not her fault that Hogwarts closed in the middle of her education and that she was at the top of her class while she was there did nothing to further her in the eyes of the interviewer. They just didn't want someone who had been forced to drop out of school, been arrested for murder, and gotten out of Azkaban because she happened to be friends with Harry Potter. And she couldn't really blame them.

The problem still remained, however. What was she going to do with herself? She wondered if maybe going back to Hogwarts was a possibility once it opened again, but the Ministry was still looking for a suitable headmaster and it looked as though the school would not be up and running again until the following autumn, at the earliest.

October turned to November and still no job, money running perilously short, and, worst of all for Hermione, _still_ no word from Draco. She was beyond worrying now, thinking often that she should just go out and try to find him herself. Why hadn't he written? Was he in so much trouble that he couldn't manage a short note explaining where he'd gone and if everything was alright? She didn't even let herself wonder if he was even still alive. There were too many factors working against her on that one.

The weather turned very cold prematurely and Hermione couldn't take the anxiety anymore: she apparated to Hogsmeade and was halfway through writing him a letter in the small wizard post office there when she realized that perhaps sending a letter wasn't a good idea. It wasn't that she didn't want to know how and where he was—she did desperately—but she knew that owls were easily intercepted and that she could very easily get them both in bad predicaments with one letter. For all she knew, that was why he hadn't written in so long.

Sighing in frustration, Hermione set down the quill she was using and tore up the bit of parchment she'd been writing on. There really was nothing she could do, then. Nothing that would allow her anxiety to subside, nothing that would help Draco. She now joined Harry in just waiting idly, wondering what would happen next.

x x x

**Author's Note: **I'm really, really sorry I didn't post this sooner. I know my updates are getting farther and farther apart with each chapter, but hang in there! The end is near, believe it or not! Anyway, please review.


	20. Chapter 20

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 20**

Draco had not left London after leaving Hermione's, as, he realized even at the time, was probably not the smartest move. He didn't want to stay in the same area very long, but he intended on seeing Hermione and thanking her once again, in person, before he left the city. This was how he ended up in a cheap, rather shabby hotel on the other side of town. It wasn't a great place by anyone's standards, especially Draco Malfoy's, but it was shelter, and he had limited funds.

It was there that he resided for an entire week, only at the end of which did his trusty owl find him. That was, actually, what he'd been waiting for. Well, that, and for a time safe enough for him to venture back to Hermione's building without worrying about his father hiding in the shadows somewhere around there.

At the end of this week, when he thought it might have been long enough for him to safely go back for a moment, Draco grabbed his traveling bag, told his owl to meet him in the forest near Malfoy manor the next morning, and disapparated. It was already nighttime and the streets were dark and nearly empty in Hermione's neighborhood. He stepped towards the end of the alley he'd apparated to and felt his heart skip a beat when he heard a harsh whispering sound behind him. Acting instinctively, Draco dropped to the ground and it was very fortunate that he did: the curse that had been intended for him hit the brick wall ahead and left a deep, steaming crack in it.

Draco did not even need to think. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted to the end of the alley, not bothering to check who was making the heavy footfalls behind him. What was the point? He knew it must be Lucius, and seeing the probably crazed and furious expression on his father's face would only serve to scare Draco more. So, he focused all his thoughts and energy on running as fast as he could towards the open street.

And he almost made it.

He would have, were it not for the last spell cast his way—a burning hex that hit his right arm and caused him so much pain that he fell to the ground, his wand snapping under his hand. Draco was in agony; his right arm was now useless, as was his wand. He grabbed the pieces of it anyway and limped quickly around the corner, just dodging another hex. The pain made his head spin, and Draco could barely manage to apparate properly, but he did it, and within moments, he was out of harm's way.

Not two seconds had passed before he lost consciousness and fell to the ground.

x x x

The next time Draco opened his eyes was the next morning, and it was because his owl was clawing at his left shoulder, seemingly trying to wake him. Draco lifted his head and tried to get up, but this action caused him so much pain that he groaned and laid back down. Slowly, very slowly, he rolled off his right arm, which had been caught between him and the root of a very large tree when he had fallen. The arm ached and was burned horribly from his elbow to his palm. On top of that, he was almost positive he'd broken something in the fall, as he couldn't move his wrist at all.

It took him about half an hour to get to a standing position, and every move he made caused him enough pain to make him want to scream. He refrained, seeing as he was within half a mile of Malfoy manor, but it was very difficult. When he did finally made it up, he realized he had no plan of action whatsoever and that standing was probably a waste of time seeing as he was already tired from the effort. He looked to his owl for inspiration but it just stared back at him blankly, blinking its large amber eyes.

The road, which lay only a few trees away, was no greater source of motivation, but he started towards it anyway. He could head towards the manor, he supposed, but why on earth would he do that? His wand arm was useless, the wand itself was broken, and there was a very great chance that Lucius was still hanging around there. If he headed down the road in the other direction, he might eventually stumble upon sort small town with a probably pretty cheap inn for him to stay in, but such a place would not have a wandmaker's shop, which is what he needed most desperately. Unfortunately, the only wandmaker he knew the location of was back in London, and he had planned on not going back to the city for some time.

Sighing, Draco took a minute to look up and down the road in either direction, thinking briefly that where he should really go was St. Mungo's, but then remembering that the Ministry would certainly catch him there. That was, after all, where they had caught Hermione. So that left him to heal his arm on his own. Which meant either using some healing charm or a very long time during which he did not use his arm for anything and just let it recover, neither of which were realistic possibilities.

After a little while Draco organized his priorities and recognized the fact that he would not be able to do anything without a usable wand. Not to mention his feeling particularly vulnerable without one. So that meant returning to London and heading to a place crammed with witches and wizards who knew who he was and that he was wanted by the Ministry. Perfect.

His owl fluttered down from the tree it had been resting on and landed on Draco's shoulder. "I'm afraid we have to head back to London," he whispered to it gloomily, "Diagon Alley, the Leaky Cauldron." If owls were as smart as they were made out to be, Draco knew his was glaring at him. "I'm sorry I made you come out here for nothing, but at least I can get you some _real_ owl food there." The owl hesitated momentarily and then flew off in the direction from which it must have just recently come.

Taking one more look at the pieces of his broken wand in his hand, Draco dropped them into his bag and then picked the whole thing up with his good arm. A moment later he apparated to the Leaky Cauldron.

The place was, as usual, dimly lit and filled with various sorts of people in various states of drunkenness. Draco didn't feel at all conspicuous as he flipped up his hood and headed towards the bar where the barman was jotting something down on a napkin. Draco leaned on the counter and said casually, "I'd like to have a room for...a week or two, I guess."

"Name?" asked the barman without looking up.

"Malf—, er, Mallory. David Mallory."

Draco was handed a key that had the number four engraved in it. "Up the stairs, second on the right," said the barman, writing Draco's "name" in the guest book.

"Thanks," said Draco, following the directions he'd just been given and unlocking the door to the room he'd been given. It was small but would be perfectly suitable for as long as he was able to remain there. He wasn't quite certain how long that would be, but the more he thought about it, the better a choice staying in Diagon Alley seemed to be. Lucius wouldn't expect it, there were more shops than he needed, the room was cheap, and once he had another wand, he could find some sort of charm to change his appearance and then he wouldn't even have to worry about being recognized. He knew, of course, that those appearance charms, at least the temporary ones, wouldn't stand up to close inspection, but it would certainly be enough to prevent various passersby realizing who he was.

So the only problem was how he was to _get_ this wand without being noticed. Sneaking around Diagon Alley was quite different from sneaking around muggle London—most muggles, he suspected, had no idea who he was or that he was wanted by the authorities, and on the off chance a wizard came by, he'd almost always had his trusty hood up.

After thinking over various far-fetched plans for buying (or even stealing) a wand unseen, Draco realized that Ollivander was half mad, or perhaps more, and that even if, for a change, he'd read the _Prophet_ in the past year, the chances of anyone trusting his word were pretty slim. For the short trip to the shop, his hood and scarf would have to do.

So, he counted the wizard money that had remained untouched since he'd run away, and, hoping that there was enough there, headed back down the stairs and out the back door of the Leaky Cauldron. The street wasn't too crowded, it being a weekday, and Draco made it up to Ollivander's without so much as a second glance from anyone. Pleased, he slipped inside the dark old shop and rang the small bell on the counter.

A moment or so later, a slightly hunched-over old man appeared from behind a hidden door in the corner and smiled at Draco. "Welcome, Mr. Malfoy," he said calmly. Draco looked nervously over his shoulder just to make sure no one was watching or listening in. "How may I be of assistance?"

"My wand, er, broke, and I'm afraid I need another one," explained Draco, showing Mr. Ollivander the remains of his old wand.

Ollivander frowned. "You should be a bit more cautious, Mr. Malfoy; wands aren't just replaceable like a broken cauldron—none act the same, and surprises in magic are not pleasing." Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes and decided not to launch into the story of exactly _how_ he'd broken his wand. "Well, what's done is done. Unfortunately it is not up to me to decide what customers do with the wands they purchase." He looked gravely out the window for a moment and then turned to the cabinet behind him, collecting a large number of wands in a heap for Draco to try.

Draco struggled not to wince as he raised his right arm and tried out the many wands Ollivander set before him. It didn't take too long to find one that worked the best for him. It was similar to his last one, as Ollivander explained while Draco paid—sadly, the wand cost nearly all the wizard money he had, but he was grateful that he could afford it at all.

As he headed for the door, Ollivander spoke in his soft but surprisingly clear voice once more, saying, "Remember: be cautious, Mr. Malfoy. Wands are of no use broken." Draco was pretty sure he already knew that little bit of information but he smiled at the old man and waved as he stepped back out onto the street. Task one accomplished.

x x x

Unfortunately, the next task Draco has planned for himself—recovery—took quite a bit longer than the first one. He spent weeks in his room, only leaving once in a while for food or to buy something at Flourish and Blott's to occupy his mind. He found a good spell that changed his hair and eye color for twelve hours at a time, so he didn't worry so much about being turned in anymore.

What he did grow to worry about over time was, once again, money. He had traded in the last he had of Hermione's at Gringott's for currency that was actually useful in Diagon Alley, but soon he would need to pay the rent on his room again, and he had next to nothing. There was only one thing for it: he would have to get job. And so he did, at Flourish and Blott's, which was growing to be his favorite shop on the street anyway mostly because it reminded him strongly of Hermione.

The job didn't pay much, but it got him by with the rent and food and other necessities. At the beginning of November everything seemed great—his arm was nearly healed, he hadn't run into Lucius since that night near Hermione's, his disguise was suiting him fine...

But the second week of November Draco's usual bad luck returned. At work, a copy of _Bruce Buster's Devilish Tricks for Those Intrigued by Fireworks_ exploded on him and the new burns were only soothed temporarily by the potion a kind fellow employee gave him. The following evening he was on his way back to his room, counting the money he'd just received from his boss as he went, when he bumped into someone standing just inside the door of the Leaky Cauldron.

"Ow!" Draco moaned, his arm stinging painfully from hitting the man, who turned around at this point.

"Watch where you're going," he snarled at Draco, who was too horrified to respond—it was his father that he had just run into. Lucius barely glanced at him before turning back to the man standing next to him, a Death Eater Draco knew was named Ludwig Krug.

Draco didn't even breathe for fear that his father would suddenly turn around and recognize him as he watched the two of them walk away and sit down at a table in the corner. When he got over his initial panic, he felt immensely relieved that Lucius had only gotten a quick glimpse at him and that his fairly weak disguise was good enough to prevent his own father from recognizing him. He didn't much feel like testing it any further, however, so he made his way halfway up the stairs, preparing to get to bed early, before he stopped mid-step.

Looking back on his father a Krug whispering in the corner, Draco realized that this was probably the only chance he would ever get to possibly find out where his father was hiding and what he was planning to do next. Considering his situation, knowing such information might be invaluable. Tugging up his hood for good measure, Draco made his way back down the steps slowly and casually stepped over to a table near to the one where the two Death Eaters were and sat down. To Draco's delight, neither even glanced his way.

He found after a moment that if he tilted his head just the right way, it looked as though he was examining a poster across the room while he could hear almost everything either Krug or his father said.

"...slipped away again," finished Lucius.

"Mmmm. Any more ideas?" asked Krug, taking a sip from the steaming drink in front of him.

"Yes, one, in fact. It's nearly perfect. The Dark Lord himself would have been proud," said Lucius, his glee evident in his voice.

"Oh? And what is that?"

There was a pause, and the next time Lucius spoke, his voice had dropped even lower. "Probably not best to tell you here. Maybe when we get back to the house."

Krug chuckled gruffly. "If it's still there. I told you the Ministry was on to me. Someone probably saw you come back one day. Elena thinks we'd be safer if you left."

"I will, but I need a couple more weeks."

"And then?"

"I'm leaving the country. Once I end this whole mess with Draco."

"That's going to be more than a couple of weeks, the way things are going."

"Ah, but things are going so change," whispered Lucius with assurance. "Now I have a plan."

"Another plan, is it?" Draco could tell Krug didn't have much confidence in Lucius's _plans_.

"Yes, it is. I won't give the details, but it involves that mudblood that's responsible for all this."

"Who? The one at the duel? That broke your wand?" asked Krug.

"Yes," said Lucius, and Draco smiled at his obvious irritation at being reminded of this incident, "that one. She'll be paying for that, believe me." Draco stopped smiling. What exactly was his father planning? "With death."

"Oh?" said Krug again. "And what will that do?"

"Well, for one, the world will have one less muggle-born calling herself part of the magical community, and for another, I'm going to frame Draco for it." There was a pause as Lucius took a sip of his own drink. "Don't you see?" he continued, "It's perfect: Draco receives a note from me informing him that I have the girl, I kill her, I tip off the ministry anonymously, he comes, they arrest him, and I make a quick visit to him in Azkaban before leaving the country. Flawless."

Draco found his breath coming in shallow gasps as he resisted a strong desire to start running and never stop. His mind was back in panic mode: _He's going to kill Hermione! And frame me! And leave and escape the ministry forever!_

He stumbled to his feet, hearing Krug laugh and say, "Quite excellent, I admit—if it works."

"Oh, it will. It's all I've been working on recently, and there's not one thing that can possibly go wrong," said Lucius confidently as Draco started for the stairs.

"We shall see," said Krug.

_Yes, we shall_, agreed Draco, taking the stairs two at a time and shutting himself in his room for the rest of the night.

x x x

Hermione hadn't much felt like getting a job recently, but her funds were growing chronically low and by mid-November she had no option—she _had_ to find a way to get money. Harry, who was now working at the Ministry, had offered both recommendation--should she want a job there too—and a loan until she found something. Hermione had refused both, but now she was seriously considering his first offer. She hated relying on his help, and she already owed him for getting her out of Azkaban, so she did not particularly like writing him a letter requesting that he keep her updated on open positions at the Ministry and asking that he recommend her should one come up.

When she had finished, she frowned critically at the letter, wishing there was some way she could appear at least _slightly_ less desperate. But no—she _was_ desperate, and if she couldn't ask her best friend for help, who could she?

Harry responded very quickly and listed several places that had recently been vacated: secretary to the head of auror offices, assistant to Judge Heidi Brewer, and filing assistant for the _Daily Prophet_. Though she hadn't ever had much appreciation for the _Daily Prophet_, it was the only position Harry had mentioned that did not involve working in two of the Ministry departments she was most determined to avoid.

A few days later, she went for a brief interview and was accepted immediately. Her interviewer's reaction to her name was precisely the opposite of what she'd expected:

"Hermione _Granger_," he'd said, raising his eyebrows and smiling, "how very wonderful to meet you."

It was all Hermione could do not to say _Really? Why?_ Instead, she just smiled and said, "Likewise."

"I'm Jeffrey White, of the Archives Department. You've had quite a lot of press this past year, haven't you?"

"Yes," said Hermione shortly.

"Should be interesting working on the other side, eh?"

"Pardon?" said Hermione.

"Working for the _Prophet_, I mean, instead of being one of its victims."

"Oh, right. Yes, I suppose."

"Are you interested in writing for us at all? Telling everyone what happened to you after the incident in St. Mungo's...?" he asked hopefully.

"Tempting, but no," said Hermione, somewhat rudely.

Hermione grew to dislike Jeffrey more and more as the interview proceeded, something that, despite her making it apparent, he failed to notice. She only hoped when she left that afternoon, after securing the job, that not _all_ the employees at the _Prophet_ were as irritating as he was.

She was left disappointed in this respect as she started working for them, but she thankfully did not need to talk to many people while filing various articles in the extensive archives. The thing that working there did accomplish was taking her mind off her worry for Draco, wherever he was at the time. She had decided earlier that if she didn't hear from him by the end of the month, she would just go out and find him. Somehow. She didn't care if that meant leaving her new job or that she had no idea where to start or that Lucius might then come after her, too. None of it mattered. Those things couldn't possibly be as bad as the constant tension she felt in her stomach out of anxiety, which was crazy, because she didn't even know _what_ to worry about. Just that she had reason to worry.

The end of November came closer and closer and right as it was almost upon her, a seeming miracle happened: Hermione received a letter from Draco.

She was so surprised when she saw the handwriting on the outside that she didn't even open the letter and read it for several minutes. More surprising was that the owl that had accompanied it was not Draco's, and it took off as soon as its job was done, not waiting for a reply. This confused her until she actually bothered to read his message:

_Hermione,_

_I'm sorry this letter must be brief, but any moment now my father should return home and it will not be good should he find me here. I needed to come back to the manor to use his new owl—mine broke its wing not long ago. _

_In any case, I'm afraid I need to ask for your help once again. I can't lay out the details of my situation here—I need to speak with you in person. Please meet me in the tower at Hogwarts on the first of December at noon. I promise to be there._

_I hope all is well with you._

Hermione set down the letter and looked over at her calendar. The first of December was in three days. She wrapped another blanket around herself against the cold and sat on her sofa, wondering if Draco would explain when she saw him why he hadn't written in so long or why he had risked a trip to the manor just to use his father's owl. Couldn't he have just apparated to London and spoken to her in person? What if there was something keeping him from traveling? A serious injury, or some sort of imprisoning magic? She bit her lip in unease, but then took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Draco was probably fine. He would explain everything on the first, and she would help him in any way possible. And she would finally see him again...the very thought made her smile.

Only three days.

x x x

Draco didn't stop thinking about possible courses of action all that night or all the next day. When someone would ask him something at work, he would rudely tell them to be quiet and leave him alone. By the end of the week, he stopped going to work altogether, figuring he had enough to get by for the time being. If he made it through all this alive, maybe they would be nice enough to give him his position back, should he ask.

The problem still remained, however, that Draco _didn't_ have a plan of action. No matter how hard he thought, he just couldn't come up with something that might actually work. The "couple of weeks" Lucius had estimated were running out and Draco still hadn't done anything. He couldn't believe himself—here, he was fortunate enough to have found out his father's plans and now he wasn't even doing anything to prevent them. His anxiety grew as the end of the month approached.

Then, one morning, after sitting up all night once again staring at his ceiling, Draco decided what to do. Sometime, when Lucius was not there, Draco would sneak into the Krugs' house and have a little look around the room his father was staying in. Surely there would be something there that would give Draco hints as to _when_ this was all supposed to happen, _where_ it was supposed to happen, and other pieces that might help Draco to put everything together in his mind. Until he had answered some of these questions, there was really nothing else he could do.

And so, finally, on the evening of the last day of November, Draco left his room at the Lucky Cauldron and apparated to the neighborhood of Ludwig and Elena Krug, whose home was conveniently surrounded by thick bushes and shrubs behind which he could hide until sure that it was safe to sneak inside.

When he arrived, the lights inside were on, and over the next hour he caught a glimpse of his father sitting at a desk in one of the upstairs rooms and saw Mrs. Krug moving about the dining room once or twice. The sun went down, the lights inside went out, and still no sign that Lucius was going to leave. When planning the time he arrived, Draco had assumed that Lucius would only dare to leave the house at night, since he endangered himself by appearing in public in daylight. But now Draco realized that it was probably very rare, even at night time, that Lucius left the house, where he could develop his plans in safety.

Another hour went by and Draco's muscles began to ache from sitting still so long. His eyelids drooped and he found it enormously frustrating that after all these nights of not being able to sleep, the one time he really _shouldn't_ fall asleep, he was about to. He settled into a more comfortable position on the ground and with one last glance at the dark, silent house, fell into a deep sleep that lasted _much_ longer than he would have hoped for.

The morning of December first.

x x x

**Author's Note: **Very sorry about both the long wait and the boring chapter. I _promise_ things will liven up (a lot) in the next chapter, which may very well be the last. Please don't give up on me! And review!


	21. Chapter 21

"**Long, Long, Long"**

**Chapter 21**

The sound of footsteps on the pebbly path near the shrubs concealing Draco from view awoke him the next morning. He was deeply confused for a moment as his mind tried to clear and when he looked up, he saw it was Lucius making his way down the walkway from the house. He was only recognizable by his walk, as his head was hidden under the large hood of a long, dark cloak. Draco, remembering why he was there, stiffened and waited silently until the sound had faded away completely before relaxing.

The sky was overcast, but it was light enough to be clearly at least mid-morning. How had this happened? He was supposed to sneak in at _night_, under the cover of darkness. It was only by luck, really, that Draco even knew that Lucius was gone. What if he had left and Draco had missed his chance? He grumbled furiously at himself for a moment before realizing he might only have a limited amount of time to do the investigating he intended.

He stood and glanced at his watch—it was nearly eleven! He decided that he needed to be out of there by eleven thirty at the latest. Even that might be cutting it close, as he had no idea where his father was going or how long he would be there. Draco made his way stealthily to the side of the house. He was pretty sure no one inside had seen him, and the nearest neighbor was not quite near enough to be able to notice a strange man sneaking up the walkway.

Deciding that apparating onto the roof would be a bit risky, Draco started uneasily up the chimney, which conveniently had a brick design on it that provided small ledge for him to step on and grip. Though in reasonable shape, Draco struggled quite a bit to make it to even the second story, and there he nearly slipped off a window sill he used a step and fell. Thankfully, an extremely old vine of ivy gave him something to grasp before sliding off. This little incident did nothing to boost his confidence, however, and it was with much difficulty that he finally heaved himself over the ledge of the roof a few minutes later.

There he took a moment to catch his breath, his heart beating abnormally fast due to effort and anxiety. But he had made it, and the window into the guest room unlatched easily with a simple spell and slid open. Draco crawled through and listened intently for the presence of anyone else on that floor for a moment. Nothing.

He stepped over to the wooden desk, which was littered with various scraps of paper with various handwritings, snippets from the _Daily Prophet_, lists... Draco chose one piece of paper at random and examined it, realizing quickly that it was one of the letters he and Hermione had exchanged while she was in Azkaban. _How did Lucius get these?_ wondered Draco, thinking simultaneously over all the things they had said in those letters. Was there anything betraying? Anything worth something to Lucius? Draco figured he must have taken them when he came looking through Hermione's apartment.

There were several other letters, a couple with seeming randomly circled words in them. Draco then moved on to the articles from the _Daily Prophet_, which included all the articles about him or Hermione that had appeared in the last year. They, too, had various circled words, but Draco could draw no connection between any of them. Then there were the letters Lucius had written to some of his Death Eater fellows inquiring about certain things: whether any of them had seen Draco recently, who could offer him a place to stay while the manor was searched, where he could buy a posion where no one would suspect what he was up to... Draco shuddered at this last one, hoping that any plan that involved poison Lucius had given up on.

In the midst of the whole mess was one sheet covered in notes written with the same pen that had circled the words in the letters and articles. A lot was scratched out and Draco had difficulty reading through it, but there seemed to key words written along the left-hand side of the page:

_letter: owl, first, tower, help, unsigned_

_day: note, school, enter—owl, follow, die, arrive, away_

Lucius, always paranoid, seemed to be writing his notes in some kind of code or unconnected way that Draco could not make any sense of. He frowned, still looking at the sheet, and paced the room, thinking it all over. When he had pretty much memorized the words but still had no idea of the real steps of the plan, Draco decided another look at some of the other stuff on the desk wouldn't hurt.

He shoved the newspaper clippings and letters out of the way and found another sheet written in that familiar pen, but with very strange words indeed:

_Hermione,_

_Hermione,_

_Hermione,_

_Unfortunately, I cannot_

_Sadly, I have little time_

_Meet me in person on the first_

_Meet me at _

_I need to request_

_I need your assistance_

_Once again, I seek your help_

Now even more confused than before, Draco sat down at the desk and stared at the strange words for a long time. _Did he take notes on something I said? Is this a letter he was going to write to Hermione? Why would he call her that? Why did he change his handwriting?_

Then something clicked. Draco looked at the letter just underneath the sheet he'd been staring at and compared his own handwriting to that of Lucius's. It was nearly identical! Not even nearly, it _was_! His father had been _practicing_ Draco's handwriting! But why? What could he possibly use that for?

The answer was so obvious to Draco when he finally came to it that he literally hit himself in the forehead. Lucius was going to write to Hermione pretending that it was _Draco_ who was writing. Draco looked back at the other sheet, the one with the random word lists on it. _Letter_, it said, _owl, first, tower, help, unsigned_. _Owl_—well, he couldn't use Draco's owl, so he'd have to explain the change in birds. _First_—what did that mean? He shrugged it off and moved on. _Tower_—that was easy, he had said to meet in the tower at Hogwarts. _Help_—asked for help? Maybe. _Unsigned_—Draco had left all his letters to Hermione unsigned, so Lucius had probably continued the trend. It all made sense!

But when had he written the letter? _When_ did he say he would meet Hermione? A thought occurred to Draco—_first_: that must be a key part of the letter, since he'd written it down, so did he plan to meet on the first? Of _December_? That was today! Draco glanced at his watch—quarter to twelve. When was Hermione going to be there? Draco decided it didn't matter, gathering together all of Lucius's notes, which he stuffed in his pocket for further reference.

The creaking sound of the door opening made Draco freeze.

"Draco...what a pleasant surprise."

x x x

Hermione called in sick at the _Prophet_ and paced her apartment in anxiety as she waited for eleven fifty, when she would apparate to Hogwarts. What did Draco need help with? Was he okay? What if he didn't show up? Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was worrying pointlessly, once again. She would see Draco in less than and hour, she would have all her questions answered then. Hopefully.

Eleven thirty…eleven forty…quarter-to…finally the time arrived for her to leave. Hermione took a deep breath and left her home, a moment later arriving at the school, which looked much more dreary and cold than it had during her years there. Stepping up the path onto the actual grounds, Hermione felt a growing sense of dread as she approached the castle. She could not, even to herself, explain why this was, but assumed it had something to do with her already heightened worry combined with the overall creepy appearance of Hogwarts. She paused before the large front doors, gazing nervously up at them. After a moment's hesitations, she grasped the handle and pulled one heavy door open, slipping inside to the complete darkness.

There was a ruffling noise in a corner and Hermione shrieked as a large black bird swooped towards her and then out of the hall a split second before the door closed completely.

"_Lumos,_" whispered Hermione, casting her wandlight over the dark corner from which the bird had come. She thought she saw something move at first, but after waiting silently and still for an entire minute, assumed she had imagined it. Even so, she was now thoroughly spooked, and it was only the thought that Draco needed her help that kept her from sprinting from the school grounds and locking herself safely in her apartment in London.

Hermione stumbled over the rubble on the floor towards the stairwell and made the familiar journey to the tower. Once she reached the floor where the tapestry hung, she had the eerie feeling that someone was following her. She spun around, searching the corridor behind her for signs of another person, but saw nothing.

"Draco?" she called out hopefully, still scanning the area around her with her lit wand. There was no reply, and after a moment, she continued her walk towards the tower.

The stairwell up to it was as dark and cold as it had been the last time she was there, if not more so, and it saddened her to think the Hogwarts, once a place of great comfort to her, was now unbearably uncomfortable and creepy.

When she finally made it to the circular room at the top, she found it deserted. Draco hadn't arrived yet. "_Nox_," she whispered and let her wand arm drop limply to her side as she stepped towards the window. Outside, a light rain started to fall, wetting the windows of the tower as well as the floor where they were broken.

A stepping sound behind her made Hermione spin around and she nearly screamed in shock and horror at who she saw.

"_Expelliarmus_!" said Lucius, grabbing Hermione's wand out of the air as it flew towards him. "So nice of you to come, Ms. Granger," he said, smiling coldly at her.

x x x

Ludwig Krug faced Draco, a slightly amused expression on his face. "There's always _something_ that goes wrong with Lucius's plans," he commented. "Not one has been perfect." Draco didn't respond. In fact, he wasn't really listening—his mind was working on the more pressing matter of how he was going to get out of there. Fast.

Krug raised his wand. "But your father is a good friend of mine, Draco, so I like to help him out when I can. Now, for instance." Now Draco started to pay attention. He didn't know how Krug was going to deal with this situation, but he _did _ know that the Death Eater's plans did not involve Draco's escaping to Hogwarts and saving Hermione from his psychotic father. Krug raised his wand, "_Imper_—"

"_Expelliarmus!_" Draco reacted quickly. Krug's wand shot out of his hand and hit the wall. He lunged for it, leaving Draco's path to the door unblocked. Draco bolted for it—the window would take far too long. He had made it to the stairwell at the end of the hall before Krug appeared behind him.

Draco leapt down the first set of stairs to the landing. He fell harshly on his ankle and pain shot up his leg, but he kept going, stumbling down the creaky old stairs two at a time.

Elena Krug appeared in the hallway on the first floor and looked shocked to see Draco there. He unceremoniously shoved her out of his way as Ludwig appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He cast a hex Draco's way, which thankfully missed and left a gaping hole in the wooden front door. Draco promptly opened the door once he reached it and sprinted outside. He stopped running at the end of the path leading to the road and took the split second he had before Krug cast another hex at him to apparate.

Misty rain was falling when Draco arrived at the outskirts of the Hogwarts grounds. He hardly took any motice, however, as e ran towards the castle at a full-out sprint. Was he already too late? Was Hermione at the tower yet? Was Lucius? Because he had no idea, Draco did not slow his pace until he was surrounded by the intense darkness of the entrance hall.

"_Lumos,"_ he said, raising his wand. To his surprise, the entire area was a wreck—statues and suits of armor had been knocked over, vases shattered on the floor, tables and chairs thrown about…. Draco vaguely remembered something Hermione had told him in one of their letters while she was in Azkaban. She'd said something about it, that Death Eaters had used the school as a hideout or something and torn everything apart. But Draco didn't waste any more time thinking about it. Stepping carefully over the broken materials on the floors, he made his way as fast as he could towards the tower.

Once he reached the proper floor, the bits and pieces of things on the ground had thinned and he could run at a fair speed. He only started to worry about whether or not he was being heard when he reached the actual base of the tower. He stopped and listened intently. No sounds from above.

The silence was suddenly broken by an incredibly loud, piercing scream that Draco immediately realized, in horror, was Hermione's. He leapt up the stairs two at a time and heard Lucius's cold chuckle and then a moment later his voice saying, "That was for breaking my wand at the duel. There are many other incidents I could make you pay for right now—in fact I'm rather tempted to—but unfortunately, Ms. Granger, our time is limited." He paused for moment and Draco was sure Lucius was listening as he pounded heavily up the stairs. He stopped running and a thick silence followed. "Draco…?" called Lucius uncertainly.

Draco didn't know how to respond. He hadn't really thought out what he was going to d at all, and now he was stuck just a few steps from both his father and Hermione with no idea what to next. Suddenly, an idea struck him. On impulse, he changed his voice and said, "Lucius Malfoy? This is the Ninistry of Magic." This statement was greeted with silence. "Please step down the stairs and drop any possible weapons you are carrying."

A few seconds passed in thick silence. Then a wand was thrown into Draco's view, bouncing off the curved wall and rolling down several steps to Draco's feet. Draco was stunned. Lucius had given up his wand that easily? Something was very strange about this. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, now please sstep down the stairs." Nothing happened for a moment and then:

"Who are you?" asked Lucius.

Draco hesitated a little too long. Lucius ran quickly down the top few steps and came into view before Draco, who shouted "_Protego!_" just in time to shield himself from Lucius's stunning spell.

"_Stupefy!_" cried Draco, but Lucius dodged it, slamming into the wall to his left. Draco took the second he had while Lucius was disoriented to grab the wand thrown earlier and sprint past his father up to the top of the tower. Hermione was there, lying on the floor, looking more than a little frightened. "Draco!" she said upon seeing him, noticeably relieved.

Just as Lucius stumbled back up the steps into the room, Draco managed to toss Hermione the spare wand he was carrying, which he now realized must be hers. "_Avada--"_ shouted Lucius, flicking his wand towards Hermione.

"_Impedimenta!_" interrupted Draco. The two spells bounced off each other and missed their marks.

"_Stupefy!_" Hermione stood and aimed her wand at Lucius.

"_Protego!_" the spell bounced off of his invisible shield and instead hit Hermione, who collapsed to the ground instantaneously, unconscious.

Lucius turned quickly on Draco, muttering something under his breath. "_Prote--"_ Draco tried to defend himself, but was too slow—Lucius's spell hit him squarely in the chest and he was thrown against the stone wall, leaving him dizzy and gasping for breath. The window shattered behind him and he tried to meander around the fallen shards of glass as he crawled towards his wand, which had been thrown out of his hand in the impact.

"_Crucio!_" cried Lucius before Draco reached it. Searing pain penetrated every part of his body. he couldn't see, he couldn't hear anything except his own screaming...and then Lucius lifted the curse and Draco panted on the ground for a moment, unable to do anything else. He reached feebly for his wand, only a couple of feet away, but...

"_Accio_," said Lucius softly, and Draco's wand flew gracefully to his outstretched hand. Lucius allowed himself a grin: despite the unplanned early arrival of his son, he now had Hermione unconscious and Draco weak and wandless before him. It seemed he would succeed after all.

Draco was thinking the same thing, and no matter how hard his tired brain tried to think of a way out of this, he could come up with no reasonable plan.

Lucius turned" towards Hermione's motionless figure and raised Draco's wand, "It's finally over, Draco," he said quietly, "_Avada Ked--!"_

Draco, summoning what remained of his energy, lunged for Lucius, knocking him off balance and stumbling towards the wall, which he hit with considerable force. The forming rain puddle made Lucius slip and before anyone even realized what was happening, Lucius was scrambling to find something to grab a hold of as his momentum pushed him halfway through the broken window. His hand was cut on the glass and he howled in pain. "Draco," he said. It was an order, a demand that his son stand and do something. It was the same tome of voice he'd used towards Draco his entire life. Draco didn't move.

The broken glass, the only thing holding Lucius where he was as the edges cut painfully into his skin, gave way under his weight and he slipped silently from view. The whole experience had happened so fast and was so strange that Draco at first felt sure he had imagined it. Perhaps his father had killed him and this was some wierd post-death fantasy. It was morbid enough to be.

Whole minutes passed in silence and Draco finally came to the conclusion that it had, in fact, all happened. His father was dead. But what of Hermione? Draco jerked his head around to look at her. She lay perfectly still. In his mind he started to panic. _No_. He got to his knees and crawled over to her. No movement. No signs of life. Had the curse hit her after all? Had Draco's efforts not been enough? _No_, he thought, _she's not_. But then why did she appear so? Hope flooded through him as Draco suddenly remembered that she had been stunned. Maybe that was it...

He reached over and grabbed her wand out of her limp hand, his own having been lost with Lucius. "_Ennervate_," he whispered hopefully, and waited. Nothing happened. Draco hardly dared to breathe. "Hermione," he whispered, almost inaudibly. "Hermione," he said again, lightly touching her shoulder.

And then her eyes slowly fluttered open and she tilted her head slightly in his direction. "Draco," she said, and smiled.

"Are you alright?" he asked, noticing her wince as she moved.

She placed a hand behind her neck. "I think I hit my head, but it doesn't seemvery serious." She sat up slowly and looked around, a bit confusedly. "Where's Lucius?" she asked.

"He's gone."

"Gone...? Gone where?"

Draco nodded meaningfully towards the window. It took her a second, but Hermione eventually caught on to what he meant. She took her gaze from the window to look back at him. "Nice to see you," she said and he smiled. "It's been a very long time."

"Much too long," agreed Draco. He leaned forward and placed his lips on hers. For the first time in many long months, they kissed, and neither wished to leave the moment for many more, lost as they were—and had been nearly a year ago in the same place—in their own world.

But fortune had never been with them. In a few minutes, they heard sounds coming from outside, noises the light drizzle still coming down could not conceal. Draco regretfully left Hermione momentarily and stood at the window to see what the sounds were.

Ministry officials, running and shouting to one another, were making their way towards the school. There were four of them, all with their wands out. Draco remembered with a start that Lucius's plan had involved anonymously telling the Ministry of Hermione's murder and Draco's guilt.

"What is it?" asked Hermione concernedly.

"The Ministry."

"The Ministry?" she asked, surprised.

Draco nodded. "My father was going to have them arrest me for your murder." He turned back to the window, seeing the wizards disappear from his view as they came to the front doors. "He must have gotten ahead of himself, informing them that you were dead before you were."

Hermione nodded and went to stand beside him. He looked over at her mournfully. "I need to leave before they make it up here."

"But why?" asked Hermione, startled, "You didn't do anything; they can't arrest you."

"I think you're forgetting that my father is lying dead on the ground below us and that it was _me_ who pushed him. And you know as well as I that the Ministry will not see things the way we do, even if he was a Death Eater." Hermione frowned, but nodded her understanding. "Not to mention I'm still wanted for betrayal and elping the Dark Lord and all," he added.

"Then you have to go..." she said, not really asking, just stating the sad fact as it was. He nodded and she sighed. "Well then of course you realize you're not leaving me behind this time."

"What?" said Draco.

Hermione smiled and took his hand, leading him down the stairwell. "I'm tired of sitting around worrying about where you are and whether you're alive or not—I'm going with you."

Draco thought about this as they made their way down the staris. "But what if I'm caught and you're found to have been assisting me? You'll go back to Azkaban, and Potter's influence only goes so far..."

Hermione shrugged off his protest as they paused outside the tapestry leading to the tower. He opened his mouth to point out another flaw in her plan but she quieted him with her hand. "There's nothing for it, Draco—I'm going with you. End of story."

Draco smiled at her stubbornness and kissed her warmly, gratefully, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The Ministry wizards could be heard pounding up the stairs, not far off. Draco and Hermione pulled away and he took her hand in his. "Then let's go," he said, pulling her off away from the threat at hand.

**THE END**

x x x

**Author's Note:** Thank you for reading! If you've been lazy about reviewing up to this point, please review now—it would be _greatly_ appreciated.

As you may or may not have guessed, this story was partially inspired by the Beatles' song "Long, Long, Long." For lyrics, see below.

"_Long, Long, Long"_

_It's been a long, long, long time,  
How could I ever have lost you   
When I loved you._

_It took a long, long, long time  
Now I'm so happy I found you  
How I love you_

_So many tears I was searching,  
So many tears I was wasting, oh. Oh--_

_Now I can see you, be you  
How can I ever misplace you  
How I want you  
Oh I love you  
You know that I need you.  
Oh I love you._


End file.
